Friday the 13th Part IV: The Final Chapter Novelization
by HornRaptor
Summary: Simon Hawke never wrote a Friday the 13th part 4 Novelization so I wrote one! If you have any comments or feedback please review this book and give me some advice on how to improve my writing, character development, etc. I want to continue with part 5 and other horror novelizations! Please read, favorite, and REVIEW!
1. Prologue

FRIDAY THE 13th Part 4

The final chapter

A novelization by Landon Turner

Based on the screenplay by Barney Cohen

Prologue

It was the summer of 1984 in the town of Crystal Lake.

Crystal Lake was the sort of town where you could walk alone down the streets in the late hours of the night and not be afraid; the sort of town where you could leave your doors unlocked and never fear the sort of things that happened in the bigger cities; the sort of town where you could turn on the ten o' clock news and cringe at all of the terrifying stories and then sigh with relief as you realized that what you were hearing about had happened over a thousand miles away.

It was just that sort of small, sleepy town that everyone dreamed about. Sure, you had the few ambitious folks who had their hearts set on the toils of a big city like Manhattan or Chicago, but deep down in their hearts, they always longed to eventually settle down in a picturesque frame house on a quiet, tree-lined, residential street somewhere in a North American suburb.

Crystal Lake was that sort of town.

Until, the summer of 1984 came.

What happened that summer rocked the small town and everyone living in it. Nobody wanted to believe it. They wanted to put it aside and erase it from the town's history; they wanted to pretend that it never even happened.

And, unfortunately, it wasn't the first time that the small town had endured such a tragedy.

Some twenty years ago in the same, sleepy town of Crystal Lake, at a local campground, a boy drowned in the lake.

The Voorhees boy.

Jason Voorhees.

It was a name that the residents of Crystal Lake had come to know; some were afraid to utter out loud.

The drowning almost got Camp Crystal Lake shut down, but no one cared enough about the Voorhees boy to go to such drastic measures.

But, someone did.

Someone cared about Jason a little too much.

That 'someone' was his own mother, Pamela Voorhees.

Some say that she went 'mad', others say that she was just a mother doing what she thought was best for her son.

Every day, Pamela thought about her son's lifeless corpse, rotting away at the bottom of that lake.

He would call out to her, and his puny, helpless voice would reach her through the wind, and she'd stand at the edge of Crystal Lake and call back out to him.

His voice was telling her to seek vengeance for him. To kill them all.

She didn't want to listen at first, but the more that she heard her son's awful cries; the more she began to succumb to its wishes.

So, when Camp Crystal Lake went into business next summer, so did Pamela.

She waited for the darkest night to come. The darkest, quietest night.

And she took a knife from the shed.

And she watched two camp counselors fondling each other on the second floor of an old barn.

It was the same two counselors who should have been watching Jason when he drowned.

With each kiss that they gave each other, and each caress, and each passionate moan, Pamela grew hotter with rage.

She felt it well up inside her, and finally, she couldn't handle it anymore.

She hacked away at their bodies until their screams stopped, and as soon as their agonizing cries ceased, so did the rage inside of her; a temporary alleviation to the madness and the suffering she had been through ever since her sweet Jason was left to die.

Pamela disappeared into the night, leaving a grisly scene for the rest of the camp to discover.

After the murders of the two camp counselors, the camp was officially shut down, and the locals deemed the place "Camp Blood".

The campgrounds were opened again in the early sixties, but someone burned down the cabins, and later, poisoned the lake.

Mrs. Voorhees wouldn't stop until it was closed down for good.

She almost got her wish, because for the next twenty years, the camp lay dormant. Rotting away until it was only a shell of what it once was.

But, a man by the name of Steve Christy made the fatal mistake in opening the camp again in the summer of 1979.

He signed a few papers, hired a few counselors, and after some negotiating and patience and a little luck, the camp was his.

It had only been open a month.

The kids were arriving in only two short weeks.

Disaster struck again at Camp Crystal Lake.

The group of counselors that Steve had hired for the summer were brutally slaughtered one night.

All at the hands of a vengeful mother.

Pamela Voorhees was back.

Ol' man Christy didn't survive her bloody rampage either. The officials found him strung from a tree, the blade of a hunting knife driven through his heart.

One girl survived that night. 19-year old Alice Hardy fought Pamela to the death, finally gaining the upper hand and decapitating her with her own machete.

Alice was severely traumatized, and who could blame her? She had seen all of her new friends butchered in one night, and had seen Pamela Voorhees coming at her with a machete, swinging at her, calling out her son's name…

Alice saw something else that night.

Something in the water.

She swore that she saw him in the water.

Jason Voorhees.

She had screamed hysterically at the police officers, tried to make them listen, tried to make them understand, but their tiny minds couldn't wrap around the idea that Jason Voorhees was alive.

They couldn't comprehend that a boy who drowned twenty years prior could actually be alive.

But Alice saw him.

She saw him rise up from the murky depths of the lake and grab him, his skin so cold and grimy, his eyes bugging from his skull, the putrid smell of decaying flesh pervading her nostrils.

Nobody believed her.

They scoured the lake, and never found any sign of a boy.

After all, it was absurd.

Jason Voorhees was dead.

He drowned twenty years ago.

There was no way he could have been alive.

It wasn't until a few months later that the police force in Crystal Lake would realize how wrong they were.

Alice went missing that fall.

The fall after that awful summer.

They never found her body.

All they found was an empty one-bedroom apartment; blood was all over the walls, the floor, and the bedsheets, everywhere…almost like some kind of sign. A warning.

A preview of years to come.

Could it have been Jason?

Back from the dead.

To finish what he started.

The locals seem to think so.

Everyone in town knew that it was Jason. They said that Jason never truly drowned in the lake.

He survived, and sought shelter in the wilderness, feeding off of the land.

They say that he became some sort of monster. Some sort of demented creature that could barely be thought of as 'human.'

The locals also said that Jason saw his mother beheaded that night.

By that poor girl, Alice.

He saw his mother being murdered.

True, it was in self-defense.

But Jason didn't know. He didn't understand.

After all, Pamela was killing for him. All for her son.

Jason didn't have a sense of right or wrong.

All he had now was an unstoppable lust to annihilate the girl who killed his mother.

The locals say Jason killed Alice.

They say that he waited a few months, growing stronger, the rage pent up inside of him ready to burst…waiting patiently until the time was right…and he tracked Alice down to the tiny apartment that she had rented in Crystal Lake…and he murdered her.

What he did with the body varied with whoever you talked to in town.

Some say he brought her back to the old abandoned Camp Crystal Lake and hid her inside one of the cabins…Some say that he ate her remains like a wild animal.

Whatever way the story ended, the locals all believed in the same legend.

The terrifying legend of Jason Voorhees, avenging his mother's death, patrolling Camp Crystal Lake, ready to slaughter any helpless victim who crossed his path.

Was he still out there?

Was there any truth to the legend?

Could Jason really be alive?

Could he have survived his drowning back in 1957, and could he have witnessed his own mother's death twenty years later?

Five years had passed since Alice went missing.

No more bodies, no more bloodshed.

The town of Crystal Lake had returned to its peaceful self.

The terror and the paranoia that plagued the town for twenty years was over.

Mrs. Voorhees was dead.

No more murders.

But, there were still very important questions to be answered.

Was Jason alive?

Did he survive his drowning?

Was the legend real?

One girl knew the answer to that question.

Chris Higgins knew all too well that the legend of Jason was too real. Too horrifying to even comprehend the reality of it all.

Jason was alive.

And he had gone on a two day killing spree across Crystal Lake, and his last stop had been Higgins Haven, where Chris and her friends mistakenly decided to spend their summer vacation.

Chris had watched the property on Crystal Lake where she had spent the majority of her childhood turned into the scene of a massacre.

Now, she was staring headlong at the masked killer as he cornered her in her family's barn.

She scrabbled backwards across the hay-covered floor, shaking her head, screaming hysterically.

His eyes bored into hers through the eyeholes of the hockey mask he had taken from the dead body of one of her slaughtered friends.

She saw the gleaming machete in his hand.

"No!" she shrieked, grasping around her for a weapon, searching for an escape, but she was cornered.

He advanced towards her, his imposing figure towering over her, blood caked around the wound where Chris had stabbed him earlier that night.

She had tried stabbing him, hitting him, even hanging him from the barn loft, but nothing could stop this killing machine.

She was going to die.

When it seemed that all hope was lost, a figure lunged out of one of the stalls, throwing his shoulder into the crazed killer's midsection.

Jason staggered backwards, hardly fazed by the blow.

It was a young black man, not one of Chris's friends, but she assumed it was an earlier victim who had survived Jason's attacks.

The young man threw himself at Jason again, but Jason took him down with one swing of his machete, and the man's arm was lopped off at the elbow.

Blood spurted from the bloody stump; Chris screamed.

The man let out an agonizing scream, incredulous at the blood spewing from the stump where his arm had been.

Jason took another swing with his machete, slashing the young man across his midsection and bringing him down to the ground.

 _Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

Jason hacked at him mercilessly with the machete until his pained groans ceased, and just as he turned around to finish Chris off, an axe was swung into the middle of his forehead.

He let out a growl of agony as the steel blade sliced into his skull and he reeled backwards from the force of the blow.

Chris released her grip on the axe handle, shocked at what she had done.

She was relieved, however, that he was soon going to die, but somehow, she was astounded that she had actually been the one to kill him.

But her relief was short-lived, for he wasn't dead.

Jason came at her again, his arms outstretched, his gnarled, bony fingers grabbing at her in a blind, desperate attempt to end her life as he felt his body going numb.

"No! No!" Chris shrieked, stumbling backwards into the clutter at the back of the barn.

He couldn't be alive.

There was no way in Hell that this man could be alive after an axe was sent hurtling into his brain. Could he?

She let out another sigh as Jason finally collapsed onto the floor of the barn.

The night of terror was over.

But the Crystal Lake massacre had just begun.


	2. Chapter 1-Murders in the Morgue

Chapter 1

" _What the hell?"_ thought Tracy Jarvis as she quietly crept down the wood-frame staircase into the living room.

She glanced up the staircase, making sure that the ruckus hadn't stirred her two children sound asleep in their beds.

The whirring of helicopter blades had jolted her awake, and glancing out her bedroom window, she had seen red and blue flashing lights flying down the country road past her house on Crystal Lake.

Something big had to be going on. Nothing like this ever happened in Crystal Lake.

The only other time that something like this had happened was five years ago when that Voorhees woman hacked up all those kids at the campgrounds.

Mrs. Jarvis remembered that like it was yesterday.

Trish was thirteen, and Tommy was seven.

It was all over the news. The town of Crystal Lake, which had always been a quiet and safe community, was crawling with reporters for months and months afterwards.

Every time she drove into town to go to the grocery store, there were people huddled in groups of twos or threes all along the streets, whispering excitedly about the murders.

When she had lived in the city, she had never seen anything like that.

Everyone that lived in the city mostly kept to their own.

Mrs. Jarvis almost liked it better that way.

Not that she didn't admire the way that everyone in Crystal Lake seemed to know each other. It was just the fact that she felt a little left out.

When she moved to Crystal Lake years ago with her two kids, she never got a warm welcome, and the locals seemed to be able to detect the urban aura that she had around her, because all she got were dirty looks and groups of people whispering about her.

At least in the city, it wasn't just her that was left out.

Everyone kept to their own, never singling out any one person.

Everyone minded their own business.

She wondered why she even decided to move out to the country.

She remembered why.

There was a shooting right down the street from the Jarvis's apartment, and with that, Mrs. Jarvis took her two kids and left.

There was no way she was keeping her kids around that sort of thing.

They could grow up traumatized, start getting bad grades in school, get into drugs, and other awful things that the kids got into nowadays.

The icing on the cake was when she found out her husband had been fooling around with his secretary behind her back.

They had been married for thirty-four years; they had two kids together.

How could he just throw it all away like that?

The only thing she could do was leave.

But why did she have to pick a hick town like Crystal Lake?

And now, all these murders?

She left the city to get away from that sort of thing, and only a few months after they moved in, the Voorhees woman went insane and killed a bunch of kids at a campground not far from where they were nestled on the shore of the lake.

She blew a strand of wispy blond hair out of her face and crossed the living room to the television set and turned it on.

A male newscaster was seated at his desk, staring solemnly into the camera, reading off of a teleprompter.

"… _the Crystal Lake massacre is, indeed, not entirely over as authorities have recently found more mutilated bodies left behind by the masked maniac who has left a trail of corpses all over the 20 acre campground and surrounding area. A lone survivor, a young girl whose name has not yet been released, managed to put a stop to the murderer's crime spree and the man who has terrorized this small community for the last two days is now believed to be dead…"_

My God, Mrs. Jarvis thought to herself.

An image superimposed on the screen of a large, two-story cabin where gurneys piled high with blood-soaked corpses were being wheeled down the front steps.

Police cars and ambulances were scattered across the front yard of the house. The camera panned over to a large, red barn, where another body was being wheeled out into the back of an ambulance. A police helicopter hovered over the scene, shining a giant spotlight around the perimeter of the property, searching for more bodies.

" _Jesus,"_ she muttered to herself. More murders.

But the Voorhees woman was dead. Wasn't she?

No, this was someone else.

The newscaster had described a man.

Another maniac.

Mrs. Jarvis felt a chill run up her arm and she moved to the front door and locked it.

She didn't exactly know why she was locking the door. The newscaster said that the guy was dead, after all. But something was bothering her. A pang of dread hit her in the gut, and she instinctively locked the door anyway.

She turned her attention back to the television, where paramedics were loading another body into the back of an ambulance.

The newscaster's voice came back through the speakers.

"…. _Sources have informed us that the man responsible for the killings is being taken to the Wessex County Medical Center where further examination is to be made…"_

Wessex County was only the neighboring county.

It wasn't very far from the lake.

Mrs. Jarvis shuddered again.

She couldn't help but feel paranoid with all of the murders happening.

First, that Voorhees woman, and then just two days ago, some more camp counselors were hacked up right beside the old abandoned Camp Crystal Lake, and now even more kids have been killed.

Crystal Lake was going to become the murder capital of the United States pretty soon, Mrs. Jarvis thought, sitting on the sofa.

She thought she saw a shadow move outside. No, it was just the way the tree branches were moving around in the moonlight.

Was it?

Mrs. Jarvis silently scolded herself. After all, it was foolish to sit at home and be afraid of a dead man.

It was foolish, right?

He was dead.

Jason Voorhees was dead.

* * *

It was a dark night.

The side of the ambulance read "WESSEX COUNTY MEDICAL CENTER," in big bold letters.

The bright flashing lights hit the officer directing traffic directly in the face, and he waved his arms in the air, signaling for the caravan to stop.

The ambulance pulled to a stop outside the gate to Higgins Haven, a large wooded property on Crystal Lake.

The ambulance driver, a rough looking man in his forties, rolled down the driver's side window; the cop approached, sloshing through a mud puddle.

"Whatd'ya need and whered'ya need it?" the ambulance driver asked.

The cop pointed towards the open barn doors.

"We got a body over there in the barn. It's been a busy night. We got ten bodies. You got the last one," the cop said.

It was clear that he had seen more than enough carnage for the night, and was thankful to have been given the mundane task of directing traffic.

Stress was written all over his face.

"Yep. They're all dead,"

The male ambulance driver turned to his passenger, a young black woman in her late twenties.

"Busy night tonight. We got ourselves a body in the barn," he said and drove through the wooden gate into the property.

He veered the ambulance sharply towards the front of the barn and parked.

The male ambulance driver and the young woman stepped out onto the muddy ground and ran through the sprinkling rain towards the back doors of the ambulance.

They both heaved the heavy doors open, and lifted a gurney out of the back compartment, and began rolling it inside the barn.

The young black medic scrunched up her nose in disgust as the smell of fresh hay and manure mingled with the stench of decaying flesh.

She stopped short when she saw the man sprawled across the barn floor, an axe protruding from his skull.

A hockey mask was pulled over his face.

A tall, burly police officer, his uniform obscured by the thick sheen of a rain poncho, hovered over the body. Next to him, a forensic technician was snapping photos with his camera, and another technician was dusting for fingerprints.

"Is this the guy who's been leaving the wet stuff?" the male medic asked.

"Yep. He got seven kids and three bikers. But this time, they got him," the officer in the poncho said, staring down grimly at the axe firmly embedded in the masked man's cranium.

The female medic watched as a another young black woman was being rolled out of the barn on a gurney, her dead eyes gazing up at the ceiling, five puncture wounds forming a second mouth across her throat.

The medic shivered down to her soul.

She had never seen anything like this in her entire life.

"Alright, let's belt him," said the male medic.

One of the crime scene investigators reached down with gloved hands and yanked the axe free from the man's skull with a sickening _POP._

The investigator slid the blood-stained axe down into a clear evidence baggie and sealed it.

It took four men to heave Jason Voorhees's lifeless corpse onto the stretcher.

They tossed a white sheet over his body, and strapped him in.

As they began to roll him out of the barn, Jason's hand slipped out from underneath the sheets, and his fingertips brushed the female medic's thigh.

She leapt out of her skin, letting out a startled yelp.

Several of the men laughed.

"What's wrong with you?" the male medic asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"He's dead,"

* * *

"Christ, this place is a pile of shit," said 38-year old Axel Burns, watching a light fixture flicker and buzz out.

It was no secret that the Wessex County Medical Center morgue wasn't the best kept facility.

The hallways were narrow and dimly lit, the wallpaper was peeling; most of the bulbs in the overhead ceiling lights had blown years ago.

He ran his thumb along the wall, and grimaced as he stared at the filth that came off onto his rubber glove.

 _I've worked in this shithole for way too long_ , Axel thought to himself.

Being a morgue attendant sounded sort of exciting when he had read about it in the paper about five years ago.

Sounded easy too.

He'd tried taking a job working with people, but he quickly discovered he didn't have the patience. So, why not take a job where the only people you'd really have to work with are dead as a doornail?

And it was a fairly easy job, even if he did work the night shift.

The first few weeks it had been a blast.

But five long years of taking corpses into the cold room, sticking them in the freezer like a slab of meat, signing paperwork after paperwork, and doing coffee runs wasn't what Axel had imagined.

He bit into his tomato-and-mayonnaise sandwich, licked his fingers, and reached over to turn on the tiny television set he had set up to stimulate himself for the mind-numbing lull of the night shift.

He sat down on the edge of a folded gurney, and took another bite of his sandwich.

He hit the channel button on the remote, and a group of women in tight black leotards doing aerobics flashed onto the screen.

Some sort of late-night raunchy workout tape.

Axel grinned.

The girl in the middle had a huge rack, and Axel felt himself getting hard.

Could you blame a guy? Nothing to do around this dump but get your rocks off.

Just as he caught a glimpse down the front of the blond chick's leotard, he heard the doors leading to the morgue bang open.

He groaned in annoyance. Great, another body. Another one of those kids that got killed up at Crystal Lake.

Axel walked out into the dimly-lit hallway.

The body was coming towards him, a huge mass on a gurney covered with a white sheet being pushed by a tough looking medic and a young black woman.

Axel waited as they rolled the stretcher towards him and handed him a clipboard.

Axel laid his sandwich down on the body, and took the clipboard, hastily scribbling his signature at the bottom of the page.

The male medic gave him a frown.

"This your last?" the medic asked.

"Nah...I got one more in there," Axel said, pointing to the cold room. "Real cute girl,"

"Was," the medic said.

Axel frowned, and glanced back at the cold room.

"Eh, she still is,"

The medic's jaw tightened.

"All ya got to do is go over there and uh…" Axel made an obscene gesture, a grin spreading across his face.

The black woman's face twisted into an expression of disgust and she yanked the clipboard out of Axel's hand.

"Nice talk, real nice talk," the male medic said, mortified.

Axel held his hands up in the air defensively.

"I get the top copy,"

Axel ripped off the first page on the clipboard and handed it to the medic, and they both made their way back down the hallway, shaking their heads in disgust.

 _What?_ Axel thought. _Does nobody have a sense of humor anymore?_

He pulled back the sheets on the stretcher and he grimaced.

A blood-stained hockey mask stared back at him.

This must be the guy who killed all those kids, Axel thought.

Great, he had to be in the same room with a dead psychopath all night.

Axel threw the sheet back over the body and took another bite of his sandwich.

* * *

Nurse Robbi Morgan hated going down to the basement.

She didn't know why it spooked her exactly. Maybe it was the fact that the basement was where the morgue was, and where there's a morgue, there are dead bodies.

She shuddered at the thought of dying. She imagined the pain that those poor kids at Crystal Lake went through.

How awful it must be to be murdered. The realization right before it happens…the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the sheer shock and agony as the knife plunged into your body, as hands wrapped around your throat, nothing you can say or do to stop it from happening.

She shivered again.

It had been a hell of a night at Wessex County Medical Center.

The night shift was never this hectic.

But, they were the only medical facility big enough to hold all of the bodies within fifty miles of Crystal Lake.

Nurse Morgan liked the job that she had, but sometimes it took an emotional toll on her. She had seen far too many sobbing parents tonight, too many bodies being wheeled around on gurneys; it was all too much for her to take in at once.

She climbed the rest of the stairs down to the morgue and walked down the narrow hallway.

A light flickered overhead.

The walls creaked and the pipes in the wall groaned.

She turned the corner, coming to a stop at the reception desk.

Where the hell was everyone? They had ten bodies coming in, and the morgue looked like a ghost town.

She shrugged, glancing down at her clipboard. She jumped as two hands clamped down on her shoulders.

She whirledaround to face the morgue attendant, Axel, staring at her with lustful eyes.

"I'm free doll," Axel said.

"Yeah, at a bargain and twice the price," Nurse Morgan snapped, turning her back to him.

"Hey, what'sa matta?" Axel questioned, placing his hand on the small of her back.

Nurse Morgan let out a heavy sigh.

"I have a headache, Axel. For you, I always have a headache,"

"I can fix that" Axel said, stroking her hair. "Why don't you come in the cold room with me, I'm closing up for the night,"

"Axel, I'm not faking any more orgasms for you," Nurse Morgan quipped, pretending to write something down on her clipboard, hoping he would take the hint and leave her alone.

"You got the curse?" Axel asked.

"If I do, you're it," Nurse Morgan said, forcing a smile, and pushed past him back down the hallway towards the staircase, forgetting what she came down there to do in the first place.

Since the day she started working at Wessex County Medical Center, Axel had been giving her dirty looks and using every dim-witted, cliché pickup line in the book.

What a pig, Nurse Morgan thought to herself. What happened to common courtesy? Chivalry really was dead. She had always thought that when you liked someone, you actually went up and talked to them like a civilized human being, not spew out sexual innuendos and blatantly look down their blouse.

She couldn't believe how outright disgusting he was.

How had someone not reported his sleazy ass? How has he not been fired already?

She hated him.

Hated him with a passion.

There was no way in hell she was going to meet him in the cold room.

* * *

Nurse Morgan stepped through the double doors into the cold room and stopped short.

The room was pitch black dark.

The light from a tiny television set illuminated a huge mass underneath a white sheet lying on a gurney.

Was that him? The guy who killed all those kids? My God, she thought.

Nurse Morgan craned her neck to see what was on the TV, and she smirked.

Of course, she thought wryly.

It was a women's work-out video, and the women might as well have been naked in their skimpy black leotards.

Nurse Morgan shook her head and glanced around the room.

Where the hell was he?

"Axel? Axel?" she called.

No answer. The only sound was the soft music coming from the workout video, and the humming from the freezers in the back.

"Axel?"

She turned back to the television, grimacing in disgust at the work-out tape. All three women were bent over in an exaggerated sexual position, moving from side to side, their assets in full view.

Unbelievable, she thought to herself.

She reached down to turn the channel, when two hands wrapped around her waist and she let out a shrill cry.

Axel stood there, a dumb grin on his face.

"So glad you could come," he said, trying to kiss her on the hand.

Nurse Morgan angrily pulled her hand away.

"Axel, you are the Super Bowl of self-abuse," she remarked. "I just want to watch the news,"

Nurse Morgan leaned down and turned the channel on the tiny television set, and a news broadcast flashed onto the screen.

"…. _and now back to the tragic story of the mass slayings at Crystal Lake…."_ the announcer's voice said.

Nurse Morgan sat down on the edge of the folded gurney, and stared intently at the screen.

Axel plopped down next to her glumly. He looked over at her, his big brown eyes racked with guilt.

Nurse Morgan glanced over at him, and scoffed.

"… _And so begins another chapter of the story that most residents of Crystal Lake had prayed was over. A trail of mangled bodies has led authorities to conclude that…"_

The announcer's voice was interrupted by a pulsing disco beat, and the ladies in the black leotards popped back onto the screen.

Nurse Morgan looked at the remote in Axel's hand, and frowned.

As she opened her mouth to speak, she felt Axel's lips brush her neck. He nuzzled her hair, and his hand begin to move up her back.

"I came to watch the news," she said firmly, pushing him away.

She leaned forward and switched the channel back to the news station.

"… _authorities are still awaiting the identification of the perpetrator's body, which is currently being held at the Wessex County Medical Center morgue…"_

Nurse Morgan glanced back nervously at the body on the gurney behind her.

"That's you they're talking about," Axel said, patting the huge mass behind him.

Nurse Morgan's eyes widened and she swatted at him.

"I don't believe you!"

"Then shut my mouth," Axel said coyly, wrapping his arms around her and sliding her over to him.

His lips pressed against hers, and his hand slipped inside of her white nurse's uniform.

Reluctantly, she kissed him back, running her hands through his hair.

She finally succumbed, and she gently pushed him back onto the gurney.

She straddled him, feeling his hard-on through her skirt, her hands sliding inside his lab coat.

She kissed him passionately; his hand found the zipper of her white blouse, and he unzipped, fondling her breasts.

Just as his hand found the snaps of her bra, the white sheet behind them moved. Ever so slightly. A hand fell out from underneath the sheet.

A scarred, deformed hand; the nails were blackened and filthy.

It brushed Nurse Morgan's bare thigh.

She shrieked and sprang to her feet, bringing Axel up with her.

"Jesus Christmas! Holy Jesus, goddamnit! Holy Jesus jumping Christmas shit!" Axel cursed loudly, staring down at the unsightly hand dangling from underneath the white sheet.

Nurse Morgan shrunk back into the corner, her chest heaving, and her heart pounding.

Her fear quickly turned into anger, and she pointed a finger at Axel.

"You'd better get that sucker in the icebox! I must be going nuts! I mu…" she stopped her furious diatribe when she noticed Axel's eyes directed at her unzipped blouse.

She zipped it back up angrily, staring daggers at him.

"Goodnight, Axel," she said, making a beeline for the doors.

"Where ya going?" Axel protested.

"I'm going crazy!" she screamed back at him, and she disappeared down the hallway.

* * *

I'm an idiot, Nurse Morgan scolded herself.

Why did she always have to give in to him? They had fooled around a few times before, and she immediately regretted it every time.

Axel Burns was nothing but a quick fix. Someone you did it with once and never thought about it or talked about it ever again.

She was single, so it wasn't like she was doing anything she shouldn't be.

But it still felt so wrong. She was leading the bastard on. There was no way in hell she was getting in a relationship with him. Maybe a quick make out session, but that was it.

This was the last time, she told herself. The absolute last time this was happening.

She couldn't do it anymore.

It wasn't fair to Axel, even if he was a complete sleaze-ball.

She shoved open the door to hospital inventory, and leaned against the shelf, regaining her composure.

What was wrong with her? Was it the stress? The murders?

That had to be it.

With the sudden late night rush of bodies, the stress was getting to her.

She looked at her watch. It was almost midnight.

Her shift was almost over, and she hadn't done a bit of inventory like she was supposed to do every night.

"Damn you, Axel," she muttered under her breath.

She flipped through a few pages in her clipboard, scanning the inventory list and then glancing up at the rows of shelves stocked with tiny glass jars in front of her.

She sauntered down the last aisle of shelves, standing on her toes to reach the top shelf.

Her clipboard bumped one of the glass bottles sitting a little too close to the edge, and it fell and shattered.

"Shit!" she cried, exasperated.

What else could go wrong?

* * *

Axel rolled the masked man's corpse into the freezer and slammed the door shut, not bothering to latch it.

God, that bastard was heavy, Axel thought.

He grabbed his cup of coffee off of the counter and sat back down on the folded gurney, his eyes glued to the TV screen, where the chicks in leotards were still bouncing and gyrating to the beat.

He grinned.

"Hi, girls," he said, softly chewing his bottom lip.

He gave the blond in the middle a dirty look.

She'd act right, thought Axel. She would be willing to do anything to him.

Look at yourself, he chided himself. Sitting here, staring perversely at these total strangers; you didn't even know their names.

What else could he do but stare at them? That's all there was to do in this dump.

That's all he ever did anyway. Stare at chicks. Stare at complete strangers. He'd never had a steady relationship. Never even been married.

There was no way he was getting tied down to one broad.

Women were far too complicated to be around for that long.

He didn't know what the hell had just happened with Nurse Morgan. Usually she would have happily complied to fooling around before closing up.

Not this time. What the hell was her problem?

"Women," Axel scoffed under his breath.

They needed to lighten up and learn to just have some fun. What else was there to do besides screw around at this job?

He had so much down time; that was the only thing to do besides sit in front of the TV all night and get your rocks off.

He took another sip of his coffee, and cursed under his breath as a huge drop of coffee splattered onto his white lab coat.

"Damn," he said, and reached to set his coffee on the top of the TV.

He didn't notice that the icebox behind him was empty and the door was standing wide open.

He didn't notice that a surgical hacksaw was missing from the table.

As he sat back on the folded gurney, an immensely powerful hand clamped down his forehead, yanking him backwards.

Axel had no time to scream or fight back. He didn't have time to process that he was actually being murdered.

He saw the blade of the hacksaw move past him in a blur, and he felt a searing white-hot pain stronger than anything he had ever felt before. Warm blood began to flow down the front of his labcoat, and he realized that his throat had been slashed.

White streaks of pain flashed in front of his eyes, and he felt his entire body going numb.

Just as his life was being drained out of him, two hands grabbed him on either side of his head and twisted it 180 degrees.

There was the sickening sound of his neck snapping and the last thing he saw before life ebbed was a man wearing a hockey mask standing over him, admiring his handiwork.

* * *

Nurse Morgan didn't hear the door to the inventory room slowly swing open.

She swept up the last few pieces of broken glass into her hand, shaking her head miserably. What a night, she thought sourly.

What a hell of a night.

She knew what she was doing the minute she got home. Get a hot shower, take some sleeping pills, and hit the sack.

She could still feel Axel's hands all over her. He was a total pig, why did she keep falling for him?

He was inconsiderate. He was rude. He was crude. He was everything that girls hated in a guy.

But yet, she still found herself sneaking down to the morgue every now and then to see him

Her thoughts were interrupted by footsteps behind her. And someone's heavy breathing.

"Get lost, Axel. I'm busy!" she yelled over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

"I've had more than enough of you for one night,"

The footsteps kept coming closer and closer.

The breathing grew louder.

A huge shadow fell over her.

Nurse Morgan felt her face growing hot with anger.

"Read my lips, leave me alone!" she shrieked and spun around.

A hockey mask was staring right back at her.

Before she could react, a meaty hand clamped around her neck and slammed her back against the wall.

She let out a blood-curdling scream that was cut short by her attacker's hand squeezing tightly around her throat, cutting off her windpipe.

She reached out, clawing at her assailant, seeing the utter hatred in his eyes through the two holes in the blood-stained hockey mask.

It was him. The guy who killed all the kids at Crystal Lake. And he was killing her.

She barely had time to process the realization.

There was a flash of silver and a scalpel was plunged into her chest.

She let out a gurgling noise, blood bubbling up in her throat, and her vision faded red. All she could hear was the sound of her own flesh ripping, as the scalpel sliced down through her torso.

For a split second, she felt the most agonizing pain she had ever felt, and then everything went black.

Her limp body collapsed in a pool of blood, and Jason let the scalpel fall from his hand.

He felt the white hot rage inside of him slowly subside, but it would soon come back.

It always did.

Whenever he killed, he felt the rage dissipate, and an unbelievable sensation of satisfaction washed over him. But it was only a matter of minutes before he felt it again. Whenever he saw young people doing filthy things to each other, it brought the feeling back, each time stronger than the last.

He had watched that man in the white coat and the girl lying on the floor dead in front of him climbing all over each other, kissing, moaning with passion, and all he could feel was an overwhelming lust to eradicate them both, to watch their blood flow between his fingers, to feel a blade slice into their flesh.

He felt the same white-hot rage inside of him when he killed the blond girl. The one who took his mother's life.

He felt the same white-hot insatiable fury when he murdered all those kids.

He didn't feel the bloody gash above his left eye where she had struck him with the axe. He hardly felt anything when it happened.

All he felt was the anger and the hatred towards her. Towards them. Towards all of the young, careless teenagers who ran around and did filthy, obscene things to each other in the dark.

They had to die.

It was what his mother wanted.

And now, he had to finish what he started.

Jason was going to Crystal Lake.


	3. Chapter 2-Welcome to Crystal Lake

Chapter 2

It was morning in Crystal Lake.

The golden rays of the sun had just begun to peek over the tops of the tall pine trees that surrounded the lake.

An old weathered dock stuck out into the middle of the water next to a rickety sign that read "Crystal Point."

A beaver poked his head out of the water, scanning the surroundings for any sign of incoming danger, and then dashed back underneath the surface, seeing the two young women jogging down the trail near the lakeshore.

18-year old Trish Jarvis used to hate the idea of living out in the middle of nowhere.

But over the last few years, she had gotten used to it.

She could wake up in the morning to the sounds of birds chirping in the trees, instead of brakes screeching, and cars honking, and pedestrians hollering for a taxi.

Ever since they moved out to the country, she had had so much more time to spend with her mother.

The both of them were able to go on an early morning or even a late night jog without worrying about getting mugged.

You could do anything you wanted out in the country.

And yet, her mother still worried.

Constantly worried.

About every little thing.

" _Don't stay out too late. Don't go into the woods alone,"_ she would always say. What could happen out in the middle of the woods? There weren't any bears in this part of the country, and they didn't have anybody living around them. Their closest neighbor was several miles up the narrow, dirt road leading into town.

The only company they ever had was when a family would occasionally occupy the rental home next to them, and they had never had any trouble with them.

Her father would have loved it out in the country.

He would have loved the fresh air and the atmosphere.

Her parents separated eight years ago this August.

Trish always thought that it hurt her and her younger brother Tommy more than it hurt her mother.

Even though her father had cheated on her mother, she still loved him more than anyone in the world. She had been the apple of her father's eye.

He always bought her anything she wanted and let her do anything she wanted, and her mother was always the strict one. Always the one to say 'no.'

Why did he have to go and do what he did? Did he not care enough about her to stay faithful to his mother? Did he not care enough that he had to go and split the family apart like this?

She only heard from her father every other month. And it killed her.

Trish realized that her and her mother had been jogging in silence for the last quarter of a mile, and she remembered that her father had called only a few days ago.

"I talked to Dad," Trish said.

"How is he?" Mrs. Jarvis asked hesitantly.

"He asked me to come out and see him,"

"Did he tell you to take a number?" Mrs. Jarvis said wryly.

"No, but he asked about you,"

"Did he? Well, on second thought, maybe we should go out and see him," Mrs. Jarvis said. "I bet he could stand a visit. What do you think?"

Trish grinned.

"I think you're just getting horny," she joked, nudging her mother slyly.

Mrs. Jarvis rolled her eyes and laughed.

They didn't notice the man in the bushes a few yards away watching them.

It wasn't Jason.

It was someone else.

Someone who had come to Crystal Lake for another reason.

To kill Jason Voorhees.

To end the terror once and for all.

They would stop at nothing to bring a stop to that monster for good.

* * *

Trish and her mother stepped through the kitchen door to the sound of mass gunfire and digital explosions.

Mrs. Jarvis's twelve-year old son, Tommy, sat at the computer desk in the living room, a grotesque rubber mask pulled over his face, his fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard as he blasted his way through a row of enemies.

Mrs. Jarvis frowned. She would never understand why kids these days were so enraptured by video games. Tommy would sit at that desk, his eyes glued to the screen, playing that computer game for hours on end.

How could a computer game be that fun? All there was to it was to fly around in some sort of craft and blow up everything in your path. It was nothing but mindless violence.

But, still, it kept him occupied. After all, when they moved to the country, Tommy didn't have much to do, especially during the summer.

He had begged for a new computer the Christmas before, and the Christmas before that, but she didn't have the money. He also wanted a computer game, something called "Zaxxon", and she didn't have the money for that either.

He already had a computer up in his room, but he claimed that it was too old and too outdated to play the games that he wanted to play.

So on Christmas morning a few months ago, she scraped up enough money and she surprised him with a brand new computer and 'Zaxxon' to go with it.

Now, she almost regretted it, considering it was all he ever did, besides make those horrid looking masks.

"Tommy, would you turn that down?" she called into the living room.

Trish chuckled to herself and walked up the staircase to change out of her sweaty clothes.

Tommy turned away from his game of Zaxxon and sighed, looking at her through the eyeholes in his mask.

"But I got 98,000!" he protested.

Mrs. Jarvis shivered as she saw the hideous features of the mask. It looked like something from that sci-fi movie she had seen when she was little, "It Came From Outer Space."

It was a grayish color, and the eyes were huge and oval-shaped.

It wasn't even his scariest mask. He had over a dozen upstairs, all ones that made her skin crawl.

But they looked good. So realistic, she often wondered how he did it. He would sit up in his room with his kit with the door closed for hours working on them.

"How many robots is that?" she asked, playing along.

"35," Tommy replied, turning back to the screen just in time to watch himself get blown up.

Mrs. Jarvis crossed the front hall into the kitchen, and reached for a rag on the counter, mopping her sweaty brow.

She glanced around.

This house was nothing like their apartment back in the city.

Their apartment was squeezed into the back corner of a huge apartment complex and from the inside, you would have thought they lived in a normal one-story house in the suburbs. It was modern and comfortable.

This house looked like a flashback to the early 1900s. It was a log cabin that looked like it was designed by Lincoln himself. All of the walls were wooden planks, and the railings that surrounded the front and the back porch were made of sturdy wooden logs.

The inside wasn't much different than the outside. The ceiling was high and pointed, and long, sturdy wooden beams stretched across from one wall to the other. The walls, too, were made of wood and the rooms were adorned with Dutch doors and ancient oil paintings and wooden countertops.

There was even an antique iron gas furnace in the dining room. Of course, it didn't work anymore. It was just a relic from the past.

She didn't mind all of the antique furniture. It made it feel cozier. The inside of their apartment in the city felt like a doctor's office waiting room, but this house felt more like a home.

"Hey, Tommy, why don't you try killing some more robots up in your room?" Mrs. Jarvis called into the living room.

"I can't. I need a bypass patchcord," Tommy said, walking into the kitchen and peeling the mask off of his face.

The mask came off to reveal the young, scrubbed clean face of a preteen boy. His shaggy brown hair was disheveled by the mask, and he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and put them on.

Tommy sat down on a wooden barstool as Mrs. Jarvis crossed the kitchen to the sink and began pouring herself a glass of water.

"Maybe you can get one in town. Trish will drive you. And while you're there, please get a haircut," Mrs. Jarvis said.

Tommy groaned in response.

"Aw, Mom," he sighed.

Mrs. Jarvis took a sip from the glass of water and looked down at the rubber mask lying on the counter.

"That's a nice mask,"

"Do I have to get a haircut?" Tommy whined, not even registering the compliment.

Mrs. Jarvis laughed and changed the subject.

"You're getting really terrific at making those things,"

"Thanks, I just customized it," Tommy said, admiring his work.

"Hey, where's Gordon?" she asked him, looking around for their pet golden retriever.

"He went out," Tommy replied, not looking up from his mask.

Mrs. Jarvis looked into the foyer and saw the front door standing wide open.

"Oh, someone left the door open again,"

She quickly moved towards it and closed it.

"We're in the country," Tommy said.

Mrs. Jarvis walked back towards the kitchen counter, her eyes wide with uneasiness.

"What if a psycho walks in?"

Her mind immediately remembered last night. That news report about all those kids getting killed. She had meant to tell Tommy and Trish. She had wanted to tell them to be careful for the next few weeks until it all blew over. But she didn't want to frighten them. So she decided to keep quiet.

Just as her mind came back to reality, Trish came strolling into the kitchen, freshly changed into a white blouse and a comfortable looking pair of shorts.

"He'd probably challenge him to a game of Zaxxon," Trish joked. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a pitcher of lemonade and a glass from the cupboard.

"Hey, mom, did you hear anything about the place next door?" Trish asked, pouring the lemonade into her glass.

"Uh-huh. It's been rented by some kids," Mrs. Jarvis said, looking out the window at the two-story rental house beside them.

"Great!" Trish exclaimed.

"How many?" Tommy asked.

"Six,"

"Well, it would be nice to have some company around here," Trish said, sipping her lemonade.

Finally, some people her age were renting that house. I could actually make some friends, Trish thought to herself. She had had lots of friends in the city, but now, that her mother was homeschooling her out in the middle of nowhere, it was almost impossible to meet anyone. The only kinds of people who ever rented that old house were elderly couples.

They had no idea that the company they would soon receive would be more terrifying than any of them could ever imagine.

* * *

" _Country boy, country boy, sitting in the grass…along came a prairie dog and crawled right up his Ask me no more questions…."_

The 1973 gold Chevrolet Caprice crammed with six teenagers flew down the country road.

18-year old Sara Williams sat quietly in the backseat and watched the trees fly by her window, as she listened to the rest of her friends chant some old folk song that she had never heard before.

They had all been singing for the past quarter of a mile, but it didn't bother Sara. They all liked to cut up and have a good time, and she was used to it by now.

She glanced over at her best friend, Samantha, who was singing along with the two guys sitting up front.

Sam's boyfriend, Paul, sat in the driver's seat, his trademark blue baseball cap pulled over his dark hair. Sara's boyfriend, Doug, sat in the passenger seat.

Sara had been a little hesitant when Doug first asked her if she wanted to come out into the country with him and his friends.

She didn't know Paul very well, only that he was Sam's boyfriend. And she didn't know Doug's two friends in the back, Jimmy and Ted, very well either.

She had never been away from home for an entire week before, especially not out in the country.

Sara had heard all sorts of horror stories about bears, and poison ivy, and awful things out in the woods.

But after all, she was with friends. And, Doug told her that they would have some neighbors next door. A family with kids.

It made her feel a bit safer that they wouldn't all be completely isolated, but she couldn't shake the knot forming in her gut as she stared out at the lonely wilderness on either side of the car.

She hadn't seen a house or a store for miles.

She wasn't necessarily a city girl. But she wasn't fit for the woods either.

Her mind began to drift away from the singing, and she began to hear bits and pieces of Jimmy and Ted's conversation behind her….

* * *

"You broke up with "BJ" Betty?" Ted asked, dumbfounded.

Both he and Jimmy were crammed in the back seat with all of the luggage.

Jimmy ran his hand nervously through his light brown hair.

"So to speak," he said, sighing. "And would you lighten up on her? She's alright,"

Ted chuckled, adjusting his sunglasses.

"I'll say she's alright. You should have treated her right. That girl wanted to be treated right," Ted scolded him.

"I did. I did, I treated her right," Jimmy protested indignantly. "That's what's driving me so crazy,"

Did I? Jimmy thought to himself. Maybe Ted was right. Maybe there was something he had done wrong. Why did he always have to screw it up every time a girl liked him?

Jimmy and Ted had been best friends since middle school, and Ted was always the guy that got all the girls. Who could blame the girls? He was one of the coolest guys in school, but more in that "bad-boy wannabe" kind of deal. All the girls loved it.

He was alright-looking, decent head of hair, nice smile.

Jimmy never understood how he did it. But that's how it was. Ted getting the girls, Jimmy's relationships never seeming to work out, and Jimmy would come crying to Ted for advice.

This time, things weren't any different.

"I mean, first I would call her, and she would take my calls, and then she would have something to do, and then she wouldn't even take my calls. Can you figure that? What the fuck happened?" Jimmy exclaimed, running his hands through his hair again.

Ted shook his head.

"Here, let me put it in the old computer,"

He rubbed his hands together. Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"Come on, I'm being serious about this,"

"Hey, the computer don't lie," Ted said. "Let's see,"

Ted held up both of his hands, pretending to type on an imaginary keyboard. Jimmy let his head rest on the seat behind him, sighing with exasperation.

Ted's "computer" had been a running joke throughout their friendship, but now, Jimmy didn't find it very funny. Many times Jimmy had sat and watched Ted bring up results on the "computer" only for them to be one of two things: hurtful insults or a piece of advice that never worked out in the end.

Jimmy watched, painfully waiting to hear the results.

Ted finished "typing", and stifled a laugh. He buried his face in his hands.

"What?" Jimmy asked.

Ted glanced over at his friend with apologetic eyes, shaking his head.

"It says you're a dead fuck," he said.

"What?" Jimmy asked. "A dead fuck?"

"A lousy lay," Ted explained. "Ya know…"

"Oh, don't hold back, doc, just give it to me straight," Jimmy exclaimed sarcastically.

"Hey, _I_ didn't say it, the computer did," Ted said, defensively.

"Yeah, well, there is no computer," Jimmy retorted.

"Ah, and there's no Betty either," Ted said matter-of-factly.

Jimmy sighed, defeated. There was no winning with Ted.

"So I'm a dead fuck," he said.

Jimmy ran his hands through his hair again.

"God, I'm horny,"

* * *

The Chevrolet Caprice pulled over to the side of the road and came to a stop.

Doug fished a map out of his back pocket and started scanning it carefully. Samantha leaned over the seat over Paul's shoulder, her eyes wide with concern.

"Where are we?"

"We're lost," Paul admitted, forcing a weak smile.

Sara looked out the window and saw that they had come to a stop right beside an old, dilapidated cemetery. A weed-choked iron gate surrounded the perimeter of the cemetery, and all of the tombstones were weathered and faded.

She felt a chill run down the length of her spine.

She'd always hated cemeteries. Ever since she was a kid. Just the fact that she was walking directly over dead bodies gave her goose bumps.

She could faintly read the name on one of the gravestones.

It read: Pamela Voorhees. 1930-1979.

Why did that name sound so familiar? The last name Voorhees. She remembered Doug mentioning something about the name Voorhees when he was asking her to come to Crystal Lake with him.

It was probably nothing. Still, she felt the knot forming in her stomach again and another chill ran up her arm.

Stop spooking yourself, Sara, she told herself.

Samantha turned her head and noticed the cemetery.

"Pretty creepy," Sam said.

"Yeah…" Sara said, her voice trailing off.

"Ok…ok…I think we keep going straight for two miles, and then hang a right," Doug said, pointing at the map.

"I hope you're right," Paul said, and pulled onto the road.

Sara slowly watched the cemetery disappear from view. She couldn't take her eyes off of that one gravestone.

It looked newer than the others. They must have died within the last few years.

 _Voorhees…_ What was it about that name?

Voorhees.

Pamela Voorhees. She repeated the name in her mind, trying to remember why that name gave her such an awful feeling.

What had Doug said about the name Voorhees?

Oh well, she wasn't paying attention when he had said it, and she shouldn't be worried about it now.

It was nothing to worry about.

Right?

* * *

Patti Herglotz let out an exhausted sigh.

If someone had told her before she decided to go on a weekend camping trip for some peace and relaxation, that she would end up broken down on the side of the road and forced to hitch hike in unbearable heat covered in mosquito bites from head to toe, she never would have gone in the first place.

Go to Crystal Lake, they said. Take some time off, they said. Take a vacation, they said.

They had all told her it was just what she needed. And they were right. With her husband leaving her and getting laid off from her job, it had been a stressful two months and finally, when she had almost reached her breaking point, her best friend Linda grabbed her by the shoulders and told her to take a vacation.

But she had no idea that her car would stall. Of course, she wanted to blame Linda. But it wasn't her fault. Nobody could have predicted that she would have had to hitchhike all the way to Crystal Lake while carrying her suitcase and knapsack in 110 degree weather.

And the worst part of it was she hadn't seen a single car since she started walking. No one lived out here. Ever since she left the town of Crystal Lake, she hadn't seen a single sign of civilization.

It was hopeless. She would be forced to walk the next ten miles to the spot by Crystal Lake that she had mapped out back home.

She looked both ways down the desolate road. There was no sign of life anywhere.

I'm fucked, she thought miserably.

She saw an old tree stump not too far from the side of the road and she tossed her stuff down and sat.

It could be worse, Patti thought to herself. She could have gotten into a wreck and be injured. She definitely didn't need to be hitchhiking down the road in the heat with a broken leg.

It'll be alright. Someone has got to come by eventually, Patti thought.

She was fortunate that she found some old "save the trees" picket signs in her trunk from her tree hugger days in college. They were bright and colorful and were sure to attract a passing motorist.

She had all her things. There was food and a sleeping bag in her suitcase. She could even camp out under the stars if it came to it.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a ruined vacation after all.

Just then, her thought was confirmed when she saw the front end of a 1973 Chevrolet Caprice coming toward her down the country road.

She grabbed her brightest sign and sprang to her feet holding up the sign and waving her arms frantically.

It was her big chance...

"Come on, Paul, let's pick her up," Samantha said, leaning over her boyfriends shoulder as they approached the chubby, dark-haired woman on the side of the road.

A knap-sack was strapped to her back and she waving a picket sign with the words "Peace and Love" written on the front of it.

"Come on, Sam, where would we put her?" Paul said.

Sam glanced around. He was right. The car was crammed full as it is. She sighed and watched the woman pass by and begin to grow smaller in the rearview mirror...

Patti watched the Chevrolet Caprice fly right by, and she let her arms fall to her side, defeated.

You have got to be shitting me, Patti thought to herself. The one car that passes by is full of a bunch of damn kids. A bunch of spoiled teenagers. She had seen the smirk on the face of the dark haired boy wearing sunglasses in the back.

Damn kids, she thought sourly.

Just as the car began to disappear around the corner, the dark haired boy leaned out of the back window and stood up.

"Hey, honey, you got a sister?" He yelled out to her. Ted let out a guffaw of laughter.

Patti couldn't believe it. She was speechless. But then she remembered that during her protesting days in college, there were more than a few people that didn't take too kindly to them parading around with their rainbow colored signs. So her group had painted "Fuck You" on the back of the signs in black spray paint.

She knew it would come in handy.

She flipped around the sign and gave him the middle finger for good measure, but he didn't see it. The car was far down the country road.

What was this world coming to? A world where people just pay no attention to someone who needs help. A world where people drive right by a woman on the side of the road just wanting a ride. Of course, she had heard all of the horror stories about murderous hitchhikers. So she didn't blame them.

But still, there was no need to say such hurtful things. What kind of parents would raise a child like that? Raise him to be such an awful person. She knew she was overweight, and she knew she wasn't all that attractive, but how dare that little prick say that to her?

Was she like that when she was younger? Was she an awful, immature person who would have done something like that? She hoped not. They would learn. It would come back to bite them in the ass, maybe a few days from now, or maybe a few years.

Patti threw her hands in the air and plopped back down on the tree stump, realizing that she hadnt eaten since she left home. Her stomach was grumbling loudly.

She reached down into the side pocket of her suitcase and pulled out a ripe banana, and peeled it, biting into the soft fruit.

She was too busy munching loudly on her banana to hear the footsteps behind her. Slow and steady at first.

She heard it. Leaves crunching behind her. Light footfalls. Someone was behind her.

But Patti didn't have to time to see who it was.

A hand grabbed her by the hair and another hand shoved a hunting knife into the back of her neck.

She vomited up a hideous mixture of blood and banana, incredulous at the sight of the bloody tip of the knife protruding from the front of her throat.

In the throes of death, Patti's right hand clenched, squeezing the banana into mush, and she felt life ebb quickly.

Jason Voorhees stood over her lifeless corpse, once again, feeling the boiling rage inside of him subside.

He stared down the road at the Chevrolet Caprice becoming tiny in the distance, and he clenched his fists. It had been full of teenagers. Spoiled, careless, filthy teenagers.

And the rage was back.


	4. Chapter 3-the Birds and the Bees

Night had fallen, and the lights in the Jarvis house glowed brightly. The moon shimmered on the surface of the lake, and the waves softly crashed against the sandy shore, pushed by the night breeze.

Mrs. Jarvis stared nervously out the kitchen window above the sink, looking out into the pitch black darkness. She couldn't stop thinking of the news report. She couldn't stop thinking about the murders.

Tommy and Trish had no idea that the last two days, there had been a maniac running amok across Crystal Lake. But she couldn't tell them. Even though Tommy loved making those terrifying masks, he could still get scared.

She faintly remembered their apartment in the city getting robbed, and Tommy couldn't sleep for weeks afterwards. She couldn't imagine how he would react if she told him there had been a killer on the loose.

But he was dead. The guy was dead. But somehow, her mind wouldn't let her believe it. She had been paranoid all night. The last three times she had peeked out the kitchen window, she could have sworn she saw something move.

Was it just the way the tree branches were casting shadows? Or just her imagination?

She looked over at Tommy, who was setting the table for dinner. Should she tell him about it? Just so he would be careful?

She was about to open her mouth, when Trish walked into the kitchen, eyeing the casserole dish of tuna salad on the stove.

"Aw, mom, I thought we were having pizza for dinner," Trish said.

"I thought so too, but the refrigerator is full of leftovers," Mrs. Jarvis said, cleaning her hands with a dishrag.

Trish frowned.

"You're not smiling. You aren't in the mood for my tuna salad?" Mrs. Jarvis asked.

"Well…" Trish sighed, disappointed.

She glanced over at Tommy, who walked over towards the counter to grab another plate.

Mrs. Jarvis and her daughter gave each other a devious look.

They both began to sneak towards Tommy, who looked on with displeasure, shaking his head and backing away. Trish came up from behind him, and they sandwiched him in.

"I know what I'm in the mood for…" Mrs. Jarvis said, grinning.

"No….no!" Tommy protested, but it was too late.

They both wrapped their arms around him, and pinned him in between the both of them.

"A Jarvis hug!" Trish and her mother cried, mock-laughing maniacally and squeezing the struggling Tommy as tight as they could.

"Wait, wait, I heard something at the door," Tommy exclaimed.

"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that," Mrs. Jarvis said, hugging him tighter as he wriggled free from her grasp.

Tommy broke free and moved towards the door.

"No, I heard that too," Trish said.

He was right.

Something was scratching wildly on the door.

Tommy swung open the door and was welcomed by Gordon leaping up on him and licking the side of his face.

"Hey, boy! Hey, Gordon," Tommy greeted the family golden retriever, tousling his silky fur.

"Where ya been, Gordon? You been sneaking around?" You got a girlfriend or something?" Tommy cooed playfully.

Gordon hopped down and trotted happily into the kitchen, where Mrs. Jarvis and Trish both petted him affectionately.

Gordon was a stray they found a few months after moving to Crystal Lake. He was wandering around their property for about a week, and he eventually became the family pet. Mrs. Jarvis had gone and put up flyers around town, but nobody claimed him, so they gave him a name and he had been with them ever since.

Tommy began to close the front door, when he got a glimpse of two headlights coming down the country road, cutting through the inky black darkness.

A 1973 Chevrolet came to a stop in front of the rental house, and there was a loud clamor as six teenagers piled out of the car.

"Hey, I think those kids that rented the house next door are here," Tommy said, stepping out onto the front porch, and eyeing the two slender dark-haired girls that climbed out of the back.

His eyes grew wide. He had been homeschooled for as long as he could remember, and he had never seen a girl so pretty. They were both gorgeous, especially the girl with the darkest hair.

He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach. What was happening? He thought to himself. It was just a girl. Why did he feel so weird? She wasn't that pretty.

Oh, who was he kidding? She was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. And she was going to be living next door to him for the next few days, maybe even for an entire week.

Trish stepped out beside him, calling back inside to her mother.

"We're gonna go say 'hi'," Trish said, and closed the door.

Trish and Tommy climbed down the rickety porch steps and walked towards the rental house.

The two slender dark-haired girls noticed them and waved.

Gordon came bounding up behind Trish and Tommy and leapt up on the prettier of the two girls, licking her enthusiastically.

"Oh!" Samantha cried, giggling. "Hey boy!"

"Gordon, bad dog!" Trish exclaimed and swatted him away.

"Oh, he's alright," Sam said. "I'm Samantha.

Sam shook Trish's hand.

"Hi, I'm Trish and this is Tommy. We're the Jarvis's. We live next door," Trish introduced herself amicably.

The girl with the lighter hair extended her hand.

"I'm Sara," she said, shaking Trish's hand. "Nice to meet you both,"

Tommy stood, frozen with fascination. The prettier of the two girls, Samantha, was wearing a low-cut top and her cleavage was almost too much to handle.

He had never seen a pair of breasts before.

He knew girls had them. But he had never actually seen this much of them before.

His hands were beginning to sweat, and his heart was racing.

Sam bent down to pet Gordon, and his eyes fell right down her blouse.

"What a handsome mutt you are," Samantha said, laughing, her breasts practically falling out of her top.

"His name is Gordon," Trish said, noticing Tommy's blank expression. She followed his gaze to Samantha's well-endowed assets.

Trish gave him a dirty look, and swatted him. But honestly, she was checking out a few of the guys herself.

Two of them were standing at the trunk, heaving suitcases out of the back and putting them into a pile. One was really good-looking, and the other was decent, she decided. The good-looking one was tall and lanky, with a head of thick black hair that reminded her of Elvis, wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Another guy in a blue baseball cap called out to another dark-haired guy to throw him a beer.

The dark-haired guy tossed him a can of beer and carried the rest of the case into the house.

The guy in the baseball cap popped the lid, took a swig, and cheered.

Samantha giggled and rolled her eyes.

"That's Paul acting like an idiot," she said. "And that's Jimmy and Ted,"

She pointed to the two guys standing at the trunk unloading the luggage.

"Hey, Doug, come meet our neighbors!" Sara called to the dark-haired guy coming out of the house.

It wasn't the guy with the baseball cap, or the guy who looked like Elvis, but he was attractive too. He almost bore resemblance to a young Shaun Cassidy. Trish's hands were beginning to sweat too.

The guy, or Doug, as Sara had called him, came running over to meet them, shaking Trish's hand with a firm grasp.

"This is my boyfriend, Doug," Sara said, smiling.

Trish felt a slight disappointment that he and Sara were together, but she smiled anyway.

"I'm Trish, and this is my brother Tommy,"

"You guys live around here?"

"Yeah, right there," Trish said, pointing back towards the house.

"Cool. Looks like we're going to be neighbors, for the next three days, anyway," Doug said, smiling.

He was gorgeous, Trish thought. He was tanned and muscular, and his teeth were perfectly straight. But who was she kidding? She certainly didn't have the body of Samantha or Sara.

A guy like Doug would never fall for a girl like me, Trish thought glumly.

"Well, if you guys need anything, we're right next door," Trish said.

"Sure thing," Samantha said with a cheerful grin, tossing her jet-black hair behind her shoulders.

She was drop-dead beautiful, thought Trish. There was no way she wasn't hooked up with one of these guys, if not two or three of them. Her perfect olive complexion and hourglass figure were to die for.

"We'll see you around," Trish said. "Let's go back to the house, Tommy,"

She tugged him gently on the arm, but he was still mesmerized by Samantha.

Trish yanked on his sleeve more firmly, and he finally succumbed, following her back to the house.

As the climbed the porch steps to their house, Trish took one last glance back at the rental home.

The guy that looked like Elvis was leaning against the porch railing, sipping a can of beer and talking to the guy in the blue baseball cap.

Samantha ran up beside Paul and pressed her body against his, and Paul lifted her up into her arms and spun her around. Samantha guffawed with laugher, swatting at him.

"Put me down!" she cried playfully.

Trish sighed, watching as the handsome guy in the cap set Samantha on the ground and kissed her passionately, his hand groping her buttock.

Trish shook her head.

For the longest time, she had been so lonely. Living out in the middle of the woods never brought her any friends, much less, a boyfriend.

The last boyfriend she had was in the sixth grade that she was forced to part from when her mother pulled them out of the city and dragged them out to the middle of nowhere in a hick town called Crystal Lake.

Away from civilization.

She tried going to the local high school, but it was a disaster. The whole school treated her like an outcast because she was from the city. They called her names, and she sat by herself at lunch.

So, after begging her mother to homeschool her, Trish left Crystal Lake High, and settled in at home where she was homeschooled up until now.

She didn't like not having many friends, except for the ones that she kept in touch with back in the city, but she couldn't go back to that school again.

And her mother was in no way interested in moving back to the bustle of the city.

She was dying to meet someone. She hoped that she could wait until she moved off to college, to some prestigious university in a big city, but she didn't know if she could handle the cabin fever much longer.

Maybe she could go over and visit them before they left. They seemed like a nice group of kids. She wasn't sure if her mother would be all too pleased at Trish going over to party with a rowdy bunch of teenagers she had never met before until tonight.

Hopefully, Trish could sneak out when her mother went into town before the weekend was over.

Trish stepped inside the house and closed the door behind her, not noticing the man standing just a few feet away, watching Trish disappear into the house, wearing a hockey mask.

Jason tightened his grip on the hunting knife, the blade still coated with the blood from the fat hitchhiker.

Jason hadn't intended on killing her, but still, he felt no regret.

She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jason walked around the side of the Jarvis house, seeing Mrs. Jarvis staring warily out the kitchen window at the rental house.

Jason followed her gaze to the group of teenagers carrying luggage through the front door of the house, laughing and chatting.

One of the guys, a young man with a blue baseball cap, lifted a dark haired girl into the air, and kissed her.

Jason felt the rage swell, and he took a breath, struggling to conceal his fury, watching the two abominable teenagers touch each other in such disgusting ways.

The same ways that those two counselors who should have been watching him were touching each other.

Those two mindless teenagers who cared nothing about satisfying their selfish needs, heedless of the life that had been entrusted to them.

They were all the same.

He pictured his knife piercing the girl with the dark hair's soft flesh, the blade penetrating the flesh between her two ample breasts, penetrating her heart. He pictured the blade slicing through the boy's toned body, ripping through tendons and ligaments until he stopped screaming.

But it wasn't the time.

Not tonight.

But tomorrow, was Friday the 13th.

* * *

Samantha opened the door to the bedroom at the end of the hall and grinned at the sight of the queen sized bed.

"Looks like Paul and I are going to be having a lot of fun the next few days," Samantha laughed mischievously and turned back to Sara, who stood in the doorway smiling weakly.

Sam threw her luggage onto the mattress, unzipped it and took out a large vanity purse and headed for the bathroom.

"I need to freshen up," she said, taking out her ponytail and letting her jet black hair fall down on her shoulders.

Sara sighed and followed her into the bathroom, leaning on the doorframe.

Sam noticed Sara's subtle uneasiness in the mirror.

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" Sam asked, taking out a brush and combing it through her long, silky hair.

Sara sighed.

"I don't know how you do it," Sara said.

"Do what?"

"You know..." Sara said, gesturing to the bed.

Sam laughed.

"Have sex? I don't know how you don't,"

"You do it with everybody," Sara said, more to herself.

"I do not!" Sam protested, spraying a dab of perfume down her cleavage.

"I do it with Paul,"

"Really?" Sara said, skeptical.

Sara had heard all of the rumors at school about Sam's sexual escapades. She worried about her sometimes. What if she got a disease from some guy? What if she got pregnant? She would never forgive herself if she let her best friend ruin her life because she didn't say anything about her many lovers and sexual happenings.

"Come on, Sara, you know how guys are. They lie about that all the time. They say that about every girl,"

"They don't say anything about me," Sara said.

"That's because you don't have a reputation," Sam replied. "I mean, you and Doug have been dating for months and you've barely kissed him,"

"I have too," Sara said indignantly.

"Look, Sara, I got my reputation in the sixth grade. Don't you think it's time you and Doug..." Sam gave Sara a knowing look.

"I don't know..." Sara said, clearly uncomfortable about the subject." I mean, what does Paul think about you having sex with a bunch of guys?" Sara asked.

"Hey, Paul thinks I'm great in bed, so that's where I keep him. Seriously though, you should try it. It's a lot of fun. Burns calories too," Samantha said.

Sara sighed again, just wanting to change the subject.

"So, um, what are the sleeping arrangements?"

"Well, Paul and I are taking this room, and you and Doug can take the room next door," Samantha said, applying some bright red lipstick.

She noticed Sara's displeased expression.

"Don't worry, they're bunk beds,"

Samantha rubbed her lips together and turned to Sara.

"Hey, I don't mean to pressure you. If you don't want to do it, you don't want to do it. Sex is like skydiving. It can be scary at first, and you have to just jump without thinking about it. Once you're in, you can't go back but it's amazing," Samantha explained, leaning against the bathroom counter.

Sara smiled.

"Thanks. I just don't think Doug would want to do it with a girl like me,"

"Oh, please. He really likes you. I see him look at you the way Paul looks at me. Trust me, he's a guy. He wants it bad,"

"You think so?" Sara's face began to feel hot and she blushed.

"Yep. He definitely does. But just let loose and have some fun this weekend and don't worry about the sex stuff. If you aren't ready, then you aren't ready,"

She was right, Sara thought to herself. She would have the time of her life out here. Her and Doug could finally get to have some alone time and it wouldn't necessarily involve fucking. They could sit on the shore of the lake and talk or go for a hike. It was going to be an amazing weekend and she needed to stop worrying so much. After all, what was there to worry about?

* * *

Mrs. Jarvis took a long, slow sip of her tea, staring out the window at the rental house. All of the lights were on and she could hear faint music coming from within.

There was no telling what they were all doing in there, Mrs. Jarvis thought to herself.

But they are just kids. She did some wild things growing up herself, or at least, things that were considered wild in her time.

"How long are you going to keep spying on those kids?" Trish asked, curled up on the sofa with a book.

Mrs. Jarvis chuckled.

"I just hope we are going to be able to get some sleep with them partying all night long,"

"Surely they can't stay up much longer," Trish said.

Mrs. Jarvis crossed the room and sat in the armchair.

"Well, I think I'm going to hit the sack," Trish said, standing and heading for the staircase.

"Goodnight, sweetie," Mrs. Jarvis said. Trish leaned down to hug her.

"Are we still on for tomorrow morning?"

"Yep. Once around the lake," Trish replied.

"Alright. Check on Tommy and make sure he's in bed. Goodnight," Mrs. Jarvis said as Trish disappeared up the staircase.

Mrs. Jarvis shifted position in the armchair, looking down at the remote on the coffee table. Should she watch the news? She'd just end up spooking herself out of her mind, and Tommy and Trish usually could tell when something was bothering her.

Then she'd have to tell them all about the murders, and she didn't want Tommy to be upset. Last time he was scared about something he would come in around two in the morning and want to sleep with her in her bed, and she never got a wink of sleep those nights.

She thought twice, and picked up a magazine, leafing through it.

Jason was watching her every move as she yawned, tossed the magazine onto the table, stood up and headed for the staircase.

* * *

"Tommy, are you brushing your teeth?" Mrs. Jarvis called, rapping on the bathroom door.

"Yes!" she heard Tommy reply through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Ok, I'm going to come tuck you in a few minutes," she said and walked down the hallway to her bedroom.

Tommy spit into the sink, rinsed with a glass of water, and turned off the faucet.

He walked out of the bathroom and into his room at the end of the hallway.

Tommy's bedroom looked like every sci-fi aficionado's dream: Sci-fi movie posters plastered all over the walls, a few high-tech game consoles next to a computer monitor and processing system on a sturdy wooden desk, action figures lined up in rows on shelves, and about a dozen rubber masks hanging from the ceiling and about a dozen more displayed on a bookcase by the door.

Tommy crossed the room to his bed, and saw the window was open on the other side of the room.

He moved to the window to shut it, when something stopped him dead in the tracks.

A smile crept across his face as he realized he could see across the yard into the upstairs window of the rental house.

It was the tall, slender brunette of the group and she was standing in front of a mirror, brushing her long hair.

Tommy felt his heartbeat racing a hundred miles a minute, and his hands began to feel clammy.

He moved closer to the window, and he cackled with excitement as the girl pulled off her shirt.

What was happening? Why was this so fascinating? He had never felt this way about Trish, and she was a pretty girl.

He had even seen her naked once. He remembered walking in on her changing after a shower, and he saw her breasts. She didn't see him come in, and never knew that he saw her; he slipped right out after he saw it.

But it didn't make him feel like this, actually, it made him feel exactly the opposite. He was disgusted that he saw his sister naked.

What was so exciting about it? It was just a girl.

That was the thing. It was a girl, and for some reason not comprehensible to his twelve-year old mind, he was in love.

He watched for a about a minute, biting his nails in anticipation, wanting her to take off the bra, but at the same time feeling a little guilty he was spying on her.

Then he heard his mother's footsteps down the hall.

In a split second, Tommy bounded across the room and slid under the covers and began to make his best fake snoring sound.

The bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Jarvis crossed the room to the bed, where Tommy was curled up under the covers, his eyes shut tightly.

She smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. She gently tousled his hair, and turned to leave, when she saw the cracked window.

She went to close it, saw the view, and gasped.

She looked back at Tommy, who was still snoring loud as ever with his eyes shut tight, and she shook her head, chuckling to herself.

She sighed, closed the window, and shut the curtains. Nice try Tommy, she thought to herself. Boys will be boys.

Mrs. Jarvis headed for the door, turned out the lights, and left, closing the door behind her.

Tommy opened one eye to make sure that she was gone, and sat up quickly in bed.

What was that girl's name again? The tallest, sexiest one of the group. The one with the thick black hair that fell on her shoulders, the one with the huge chest.

Samantha, Tommy thought. That's her name. Samantha.

Tommy laid back down and shut his eyes, repeating her name over and over in his mind until he fell asleep.

* * *

"So, where is this Crystal Point?" Sara asked, sitting down on the couch beside Doug.

"My buddy told me all about it. You just take the trail around the lake and it's about half a mile," Paul said, kissing Sam on the neck, who was curled up in his lap in the armchair.

The rental house had a bungalow vibe. The main room had a two sofas and an armchair facing a television set back in a polished mahogany cabinet, a grand piano, and about a dozen paintings and knick-knacks that gave it a domestic feel but it was obvious they were just there to make it feel like you weren't just staying in a rental house and to allow you to suspend reality for at least a little while. In the corner was a turntable with stacks of vintage records adjacent to either side.

The main room divided off into an apartment-sized kitchen complete with old-timey pots and pans racks and a dining room.

"It's supposed to be a lot of fun," Paul continued. "He said there's an old tire swing, but he wasn't sure if it was there anymore,"

"Wait, are we swimming? I didn't bring my bathing suit," Samantha said.

"You know what that means," Paul grinned deviously, nuzzling Sam's neck. "Skinny dip!"

Samantha giggled flirtatiously, but stopped when she saw Sara's eyes grow wide.

"Don't you think we shouldn't be skinny dipping when there's a family right next door?" Sam said, swatting at Paul.

"They can join in," Paul said, guffawing.

Sam rolled her eyes as he kissed her neck playfully.

Ted was sitting at the table, playing a handheld video game when Jimmy walked into the kitchen, heading to the refrigerator.

"Have you called Betty?" Ted asked.

"No, Ted," Jimmy sighed with exasperation, grabbing a beer from the bottom shelf.

"Come on, Jimmy, you got to try to get her back,"

"No, Ted, you know what, I don't," Jimmy retorted, moving towards the table. "I've come to realize that you can have a good time without girls,"

Ted looked up from his game and wagged his finger like a scolding mother.

"That's a sin, you dead fuck,"

Jimmy pushed his finger away.

"I really don't want you to call me that anymore,"

Ted stood up and playfully punched Jimmy in the stomach.

"Oh come on, Jimbo, can't take a little joke?" He patted him on the shoulder. "The computer don't lie,"

"There is no computer," Jim said.

"Ah-ah…" Ted grinned, shaking his head.

Jim groaned.

"And there's no Betty either,"

* * *

Back in the main room, a fire crackled softly in the fireplace, and Paul took a poker, and moved the logs around gently.

He sat back in the armchair cuddled up next to Sam.

"That family seemed nice," Doug said, putting his arm around Sara.

"Yeah, that Trish girl was kinda hot," Paul remarked. Sam punched him in the arm.

"Hey!" she exclaimed.

"What? I wouldn't mind her coming down to hang out with us, that's all,"

"Maybe we can see if she wants to come with us to the lake tomorrow morning," Sara chimed in, toying with a strand of her hair.

"We can invite her mother, won't that be nice," Paul joked. Sam hit him again.

"You are such a pig," she said.

Sara began to think about the idea of all of them skinny-dipping. Maybe she could just sit on the dock and read a book or something. But she didn't want to be the only one not joining in. It wasn't that she was insecure about her body. Or maybe it was. She had stared at her naked body in the mirror long and hard on several occasions, just to see if she was sexy or not. She really didn't have anything to compare it to, but she thought she looked okay.

Only Doug had never seen it before.

What if he didn't like it? What if Sam looked better than her? Surely, Doug wasn't that shallow, but isn't that how all guys are? All they care about is how a girl looks.

Hopefully, Doug didn't find the idea too inviting either, and the two of them could go for a walk.

She didn't know what she'd do if they all saw her naked. She hardly knew Paul, Jimmy, or Ted. She would completely freak out if anyone saw her so vulnerable like that.

She just might die if that happened.

She just might die.


	5. Chapter 4-Stranger in the Woods

Chapter 4

It was the start of another morning at Crystal Lake. The night had left traces of it all over in dewdrops on the ground, and the moon was barely visible behind the glowing rays of the sun.

The six teenagers came to a fork in the trail and stopped.

"Great, which do we take?" Samantha asked Paul, her eyes wide with worry.

Paul scanned the map he held out in front of him.

"Uh…if I'm reading it right, we take the left," Paul said. He pointed his finger dramatically like an explorer and the group laughed.

They all embarked down the trail, listening to the morning birds singing in the trees and swatting at mosquitoes that were just beginning to come out and feel comfortable in the heat of the day.

Sam and Paul led the way, with Sara and Doug not far behind. Jimmy and Ted were the last of the group. Ted had a pair of expensive black headphones on; they were hooked up to an expensive new Walkman.

"Hey, Ted," Jimmy said, his hands in his pockets. "Hey, Ted!" he said louder, Ted's music drowning out Jimmy's voice.

Ted yanked off his headphones.

"Ted, I think you're right. I think I'm going to give Betty a call when we get into town,"

Ted shook his head.

"No, no, calling Betty is definitely a dead fuck thing to do,"

Jimmy threw his hands in the air.

"You wanted me to call her,"

'Sometimes the Ted-meister is wrong, Jimbo. I've been thinking. The first rule of love is never get rejected by the same girl twice. That's useless!" Ted explained as Jimmy tried to take him seriously. "You want to make a fool of yourself? Do it with someone new,"

"I don't know anyone new," Jimmy protested.

"Well, sex is a great way to meet them," Ted said, and plugged his headphones back in.

Just then, they all heard the spinning of wheels coming down the trail behind them, and high-pitched laughing.

They all whirled around, except Ted whose head was bobbing to the music coming through his headphones.

Jimmy's eyes grew wide, and he spun Ted around, whose jaw dropped and he let his headphones fall and dangle from his pocket.

Two girls on bicycles came careening down to the trail and as they saw the six teens, they came to a stop and both hopped off their vehicles.

"Wow…" Jimmy muttered, more to himself than anyone. Was he seeing double? No, there were two of them. And they looked exactly alike.

Twins. And they were drop dead gorgeous.

Long, slender legs accentuated by tight, spandex running shorts, their ample chests visible through a tanktop and a sports bra, and long chestnut hair falling around their shoulders.

"Sorry!" one of the girls said. "We almost ran into you guys,"

"Oh, that's ok," Paul said, cutting through the group and extending his hand. "I'm Paul,"

He shook both of their hands, as they smiled.

Sam caught the one of the left winking at him, and scowled.

"Ted, nice to meet you," Ted introduced himself. Jimmy just stood there in awe, his mouth watering.

"Hi, I'm Tina and this is Terri," the girl on the left said with a pearly white smile.

The girl on the right waved.

Terri was slightly taller than Tina, with darker, slightly longer hair. Still, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart. But none of the guys in the group seemed to care.

"Uh…y-you girls live around here?" Jimmy stuttered nervously.

They both nodded.

"Hey, how much further is Crystal Point?" Paul asked.

"That's where we are going," Tina said.

Yeah, it's a long walk from here," Terri said.

"We can take it," Ted said, flashing his millionaire smile.

"You wanna join us?" Paul asked.

The twins looked at each other, and smiled.

"Sure," they said in unison.

"Lead the way," Paul said, ushering them to the front.

Jimmy felt his knees buckling.

"Twins," he said to Ted, who nodded in agreement.

"Yep. One for me, and one for you,"

They followed the group eagerly, but Sara stayed behind, pulling Doug off to the side.

"I think I'm going to head back to the house," she said.

"What? Why do you want to be all by yourself?" Doug asked.

"I don't know. I just don't think I fit in with these guys,"

"Sure you do. Look is this about the skinny dipping thing? I'm sure Paul was just joking around,"

"No...well, yeah I guess," Sara said.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to skinny dip. I'll sit with you on the dock and we can just talk," Doug said comfortingly.

Sara smiled.

She hesitated.

"Ok. I'm sorry I'm….not like Sam," Sara said.

"That's what I like most about you. You're not like the other girls that will just throw their top off, you know? You're better," Doug said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

Sara beamed.

"Really?"

"Sure. Come on,"

They followed the rest of the group hand-in-hand the entire walk to Crystal Point.

* * *

" _Cannonball!"_ Paul yelled, pulling back on the tire swing and leaping on, jumping and curling up his legs just as the tire started to swing back to the shore and landing in the water with a resounding splash.

Crystal Point was a small, sandy beach on the north side of the lake, a huge boulder jutting out into the middle of the water. A weathered dock stuck out into the lake, and a few old canoes were resting on the shore. A makeshift tire swing hung from the gnarled branch of an oak tree that hung over the shallow part of the lake.

Tina was next, leaping onto the tire swing and catapulting off into the water with a huge splash. Terri came after her, and then Sam who both landed in the water as Paul held up imaginary signs pretending to judge their dives.

Sara was lying on a towel on the dock beside Doug, and Jimmy and Ted were standing on the shore, still in awe of the two gorgeous girls they now had at their disposal.

"Come on in!" Tina called to Ted and Jimmy.

Jimmy laughed nervously, running his hand through his hair.

"Uh…no…no thanks, we haven't got our suits!"

"So?" Paul exclaimed. He reached down into the water and after less than two seconds, he had pulled off his trunks and thrown them onto the shore.

"Skinny dip!"

Sam squealed with excitement, and took off her bikini top and bottoms, tossing them onto the shore. Tina and Terri both did the same.

"What the hell are we doing?" Ted said, his face lit up with excitement.

He threw off his shirt, and pulled down his pants and shorts simultaneously, running towards the water baring it all.

Paul and Sam both cheered as Ted dove into the water headfirst.

"Come on Jim!" Paul yelled.

Jimmy couldn't believe he was about to do it. Fuck it, he thought.

He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled down his pants and shorts, tossed them into a pile beside a stump and ran into the water.

Doug looked at the group splashing and having a blast in the water, and frowned.

"Hey, I'm going to take a quick dip," he said.

He didn't give Sara a time to reply. He cannonballed into the water, and exchanged a hi-five with Paul.

Sara sighed and sat up on the dock, picking up the book she had brought, and flipping to her bookmark.

"Suit yourself," she said glumly.

Samantha dog-paddled through the murky water towards Sara, and raised the upper half of her body onto the dock.

"Come on, Sara, strip and dip!" Sam urged.

"No…" Sara said, a knot twisting in her gut.

"Sara, let's see what ya got, come on!"

"Sam, I said no," Sara said firmly.

"Fine. Then I'm going to stay under until you do," Sam said, mock-angrily. She pinched her nose, and disappeared under the surface of the water.

Sara turned away from her, and shrugged.

"Fine. See ya later,"

It was another one of Sam's stupid ploys to get Sara to do something she was completely uncomfortable with doing.

After a minute or two of being underwater, she would realize that she couldn't hold her breath that long and would be forced to come back to the surface. She was just going to have stay under there all day because there was no way she was showing her tits or her ass, especially not in front of all these people she didn't even know.

It was just a matter of time before Sam would come up to the surface, groan in annoyance, and swim back to her friends.

But thirty seconds had already passed. And then a minute. No sign of Sam. No splashing.

Sara turned around to the spot where Sam went underwater, and there was no sign of her. No bubbles. She had disappeared.

Sara shook her head and laughed to herself.

How much longer were you going to keep this up? Sara thought.

There was no way she could hold her breath for that long.

Then another minute passed, and Sara bit her lip nervously.

She turned back towards the water, and scanned the surface for Sam.

She was nowhere to be seen.

She checked both sides of the dock for her friend, but she was gone. Did she swim back to the group? No, she didn't. Sara counted for everyone except for Sam. Was she still underwater? What if she got stuck? What if her foot got caught in something and she was running out of air?

"Sam?" Sara called, her eyes wide with worry.

She couldn't hold her breath this long. Something was very wrong.

"Sam! Sam?!" Sara screamed, beginning to panic.

Just as Sara reached into the water to feel for her friend, Samantha lunged out of the lake, grabbed Sara by both of her shoulders, and pulled her off the pier into the water with a splash.

Sam burst out laughing, as Sara thrashed around in the water.

She finally regained her composure, finding her footing on the sandy bottom of the lake. She tossed her wet hair out of her eyes, and splashed Sam angrily.

"You bitch!" Sara exclaimed, as Samantha laughed hysterically. The anger didn't last long, as Sara began to laugh along with Sam, who splashed her back playfully.

The teenagers continued laughing and splashing each other for next half an hour, not once seeing the man standing in the shelter of the trees just a few yards down the shore line, watching them, feeling the intense hatred for their youth and their carelessness burn brighter with every laugh. With every shout and cry, he felt it growing stronger.

It was Friday the 13th. A new dawn on Crystal Lake. A new nightmare. The massacre at Crystal Lake wasn't over. It continued tonight.

Tonight they would see what pain and suffering felt like. What the man watching them had felt when he drowned in the very lake they were enjoying, their own carelessness and lust for each other the exact reason that he fell into the lake. They weren't watching him. They only wanted to satisfy their own filthy, loathsome needs. The same suffering he felt when he watched his own mother, the only one who ever cared about him enough to kill for him, be murdered by another one of them.

They would learn why Friday the 13th at Crystal Lake was a day to be feared.

* * *

"Your haircut looks nice," Trish said to Tommy, pulling the station wagon off of the paved road onto the narrow dirt road that led to Crystal Lake.

The old junkyard scrap of a car sputtered down the road, the sun shining down through the branches casting shadows that danced across the windshield. Tommy sat in the passenger seat, sucking on a lollipop that the hairdresser had given him.

"Yeah, I guess," Tommy said, petting Gordon who stuck his head between the two from the backseat.

"Mom sure has been jumpy lately," Trish said to no response from Tommy.

She wondered if it was a mid-life crisis. She was getting to that age. The age where you look back on life and question every decision you had ever made, and wonder how you ever got to where you were, and why you didn't take that one opportunity in college.

That age scared the hell out of her. She planned to go off to college and become a nurse, but with being homeschooled for a large part of her life, she feared that it would be too overwhelming being thrown into a huge university with thousands of new people to meet.

Maybe she could attend one of those smaller two-year community colleges and take basic classes and then transfer to a larger four-year college to get her degree.

Then she could come back home until she got a job and made enough money to move out, and maybe find someone to settle down with, squeeze out a few kids, and make a life for herself. Was that the life that she wanted? She had no idea.

Trish broke out of her thoughts when she heard shouting and joyous cries coming through the open rear window. It was coming from the lake.

Gordon began to bark, and as Trish slowed down to try to look at the lake through the trees, Gordon bounded through the open car window and disappeared into the woods.

"Gordon! Wait!" Tommy called.

Oh no, Gordon!" Trish exclaimed, stopping the car.

Before Trish could move, Tommy jumped out of the passenger seat, not closing the door behind him, and ran off into the woods after him.

"Tommy!" Trish cried, and ran out of the car after him.

Gordon bounded down the trail towards the lake, finally coming to a stop on the lakeshore, and barking excitedly at the throng of teenagers splashing in the lake.

"Hey, look it's Gordon!" Paul shouted.

Tommy came next, leaping over a fallen log, and coming to a stop beside Gordon.

He looked out at the lake, and his mouth dropped.

The first thing he saw was the clothing littered all over the ground. Bras, panties, shirts, shorts, and shoes were scattered everywhere. He'd never heard of such thing. Swimming naked?

And then he saw Samantha come rising out of the water just enough to catch a glimpse of her breasts, and he felt his knees turn to jelly and the tingling feeling in his stomach.

He wanted to look away and to shield his eyes, but his twelve-year-old boy mind wouldn't let him.

Before he could try to say something or pretend like he hadn't seen anything, Trish grabbed him firmly by both shoulders and spun him around.

"Tommy, turn around right now!"

Tommy tried to twist back towards the lake, but she held him in place.

"Turn around!" she ordered.

"Hey, Trish!" Sam called, waving.

Trish smiled weakly, still struggling to keep Tommy turned around.

"Hi!" she said. She felt her face growing hot as one of the guys was standing so that the water was just barely below his bare ass, and as he turned, she quickly realized that what she was awkwardly staring at was his hairy junk.

Oh my goodness, she laughed sheepishly to herself. The realization hit her. They're skinny-dipping.

She didn't even know anyone actually did that. She thought it was just a thing someone talked about doing to sound cool. She was more naïve than she had thought.

"Come on in, Trish!" Paul called, gesturing her towards the water.

She laughed nervously, trying to think of an excuse.

"No, I think I'm overdressed," she said. It was the best thing she could think of. "Bye!"

She began to push Tommy back towards the trail, her other hand grabbing Gordon by the collar.

"Party tonight, Trish! Hope to see you there!" Paul yelled.

"Come on, Gordon. We're too young for this," Tommy sighed, walking with Trish towards the trail.

Trish couldn't stop blushing the entire walk back to the car.

* * *

"Some pack of patooties, huh?" Tommy said, as they drove down the dirt road towards the house.

"Tommy…" Trish said, giving him a look. She could just see the look on her mother's face when she told her that the kids next door were skinny-dipping and she caught Tommy looking.

That was just it. She wasn't planning on telling her. She may have a firm talk with Tommy later tonight about how spying on people was wrong, and maybe have the talk with him about girls. That's one of the reasons she wished her dad were still around.

If she told Mrs. Jarvis about this whole ordeal, she would have went ballistic. Mr. Jarvis would have calmly sat Tommy down and gave him the old birds-and-the-bees talk.

Trish certainly wasn't good at relationships and the opposite sex herself, so what could she say? And all her mom would do was give Tommy an hour-long lecture and ground him from all of his video games.

She saw the look in his eyes when they introduced himself to those kids. Puberty was hitting him like a truck. Was she boy-crazy when she hit her puberty? She didn't think so. All she could remember was learning about her period and about things called tampons and why she would wake up covered in blood every now and then.

She didn't remember anything about boys. Maybe she was late when it came to love for the opposite sex. Seeing that guy's hairy junk certainly made her feel like a thirteen-year-old girl squealing over Shaun Cassidy. He was the only guy Trish ever really had a crush on.

Trish was broken out of her thoughts for the second time by the car sputtering and slowing to a stop. Another raucous cluttering sound came from the engine, and the car died.

"Great, what next?" Trish exclaimed.

"I'll take a look," Tommy said, climbing out of the car and walking around to the front of the car.

One of the things Trish and Tommy's dad did manage to do is teach Tommy all about cars. At five, he was walking around talking about carburetors and fan belts, and by seven, he could replace a flat tire.

Tommy popped open the hood and stuck his head into the engine compartment.

"Can you fix it?" Trish asked after about half a minute of silence.

Tommy frowned.

"I need a screwdriver," he said.

"There may be one in the trunk," she replied, handing him the keys.

He walked back around to the trunk, unlocked it and popped it open, scanning the cluttered interior.

"Nope, no screwdriver,"

Trish sighed.

"Oh, great. Looks like we're walkin,"

"You guys need some help?" said a voice.

Trish turned her head to the passenger side window and gasped as she saw a man leaning into the car.

He was a tall, rugged man in his early twenties with a head of curly black hair, a young scrubbed clean face, a flannel shirt, jeans and hiking boots, carrying a backpack slung over his right shoulder.

"Hi, I'm Rob Dyer. Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,"

Trish stepped out of the car and waited for him to walk around to her side.

He extended his hand.

"Hello, I'm Trish Jarvis and this is my brother Tommy," she said, hesitant about introducing herself to a random man who approached them in the woods. But he seemed friendly enough.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

"It won't start," Trish said, gesturing to the car.

Rob pulled off his backpack, set it on the roof of the car, and rubbed his hands together.

"Let's see what I can do. Get in, give it a crank when I tell you,"

Trish nodded in response, and climbed into the driver's seat.

Rob bent down underneath the hood, and reached a hand down behind the engine.

"I think the problem is the celluloid, but we don't have a screwdriver to fix it," Tommy said.

Rob whipped out a bowie knife, and looked at Tommy.

"Eh, you don't need a screwdriver," he said, and stuck the knife down into the engine compartment. After hearing a click, he popped his head up.

"Try it now!"

Trish twisted the key in the ignition and the car roared to life.

With a relieved sigh, she leaned her head out the window.

"You need a lift?"

Rob shrugged.

"Sure, why not? Where you headed?"

"Back to the house. We live right down the road. You can have lunch with us," Trish said, smiling.

Her mother probably wouldn't appreciate a random stranger joining in on their family meal, but after he saved them the good fifteen-minute walk it would have been to the house, it was the least she could do.

"That sounds fantastic," Rob said, and grabbed his backpack.

He climbed into the passenger seat as Tommy slid into the back beside Gordon, and Trish started off down the road.

"I didn't think anyone lived this deep in the woods," Rob said.

"We do," Trish replied. "What are you doing out here in our neck of the woods?"

"Hunting for bear," he said.

"There aren't any bears around here," Tommy said with a frown.

Rob changed the subject hurriedly.

"Uh, are there any kids around here? Vacationers? People like that?" Rob asked.

"Yeah, a bunch of kids moved in yesterday, right next door to us,"

"How far is Crystal Lake from here?" Rob asked.

"Oh, we live on the lake,"

"Really? Great, that's where I'm headed,"

The trees cleared as the Jarvis house came into view, perched on a small incline, the rental house in view a few hundred yards away, a narrow dirt path between the two.

Trish pulled the car to a stop in front of the house, and parked.

"Here we are," Trish said.

"Thanks for the lift," Rob said.

"Are you going to come in?" Trish asked.

If her mother had a problem with it, she could get over it. Maybe she finally had a friend.

"No, I don't think I can," Rob replied, looking towards the lake.

"Oh, you got to come in!" Tommy chimed in from the backseat. "There's something real neat I want to show you up in my room,"

Trish smiled and nodded, but inside she felt like telling Tommy that Rob didn't want to see all of his weird masks, but she scolded herself after she thought it.

Tommy worked so hard on those masks, and he deserved to get to show them off to someone.

Should she be taking this complete stranger into her house? She didn't know where he was from or what he was doing out here in the middle of nowhere. After all, he said he was hunting for bear and there wasn't any bear in this part of the country.

What could go wrong? He seemed like a nice guy, and he looked like he needed a quick shower and some food. Her mother should be glad to do such a hospitable thing as helping him on his way.

It was the least they could do for him starting up their car for them. Maybe he just didn't know that there weren't any bear in this part of the country. That had to be it.

There was a very slim chance that he was some kind of psychopath planning to kill them all. Right?

Mrs. Jarvis opened the front door to reveal Tommy, Trish, and a man she had never seen before. Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion, and she looked to Trish with a "who the hell is that?" look.

"Mom, this is Rob," she said, gesturing to Rob. "Rob, this is my mother,"

Rob extended his hand and gave his best polite smile.

"Hi, Rob Dyer. Nice to meet you, Mrs…"

"Jarvis," her mother said, shaking his hand nervously.

"Come on, Rob, you got to see my room!" Tommy exclaimed, dragging Rob into the house and up the staircase by the hand like a dog on a leash.

Trish stepped into the house, closed the door, and as she turned around, she was greeted by that look from her mom.

"Who's your friend?" she asked before Trish could utter a word.

"He's a guy we picked up. He fixed our car, I thought he could have lunch with us," she answered.

Mrs. Jarvis looked bewildered.

"Ok, well I guess I'll start fixing it," she said, looking nervously towards the staircase and heading for the kitchen.

Trish let out a deep breath. She took that surprisingly well. Maybe she was just in a good mood. Normally she would have pulled her aside and gave her a stern talk and probably forced her guest to leave.

Upstairs, Tommy pushed open the door to his room, and Rob's jaw dropped in astonishment at the assortment of masks hanging from the ceiling. The room was some amalgamation of sci-fi conventions and horror movie sets, complete with posters and memorabilia of all different forms. Rob toyed with one of the action figures on the bookshelf, taking it all in, as Tommy stood in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips, proud at his work.

"Cool, huh?" he said.

"Amazing…" Rob muttered, spinning one of his masks around on its string.

"Hold on, here's my latest mask," Tommy said, lifting up a large head made of foam. He put it on his head and his hand operated a remote. It was a Planet of the Apes-esque monkey head replica complete with an open mouth full of razor sharp fangs.

Each time Tommy pushed a varying order of buttons on the remote, the mask would move and contort to resemble realistic facial motions. The mechanisms rippled underneath the leathery layer of artificial skin.

" _Rawwrrrr…"_ Tommy made the best guttural monster sound he could.

"You made this?" Rob asked, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Tommy replied, taking off the mask.

"You're talented, kid," Rob said, studying each of the masks. It was better than anything he could have ever done. They all looked so realistic, so professional. Like something right out of a Hollywood studio.

"Thanks," Tommy said.

As Rob glanced out the window, he saw the rental house on the opposite side of the clearing, and the car sitting out front.

It was perfect. He could stay here and keep an eye on those kids at the same time.

He was looking for someone. And those kids would lead him straight to the someone he had been hunting the past four days.

Tonight, Rob had business to take care of.


	6. Chapter 5-Midnight Swim

Chapter 5

Nighttime had fallen over Crystal Lake. The moon sat low in the sky, glowing like a beacon just above the top of the wall of pine trees that surrounded the lake, it's reflection shimmering on the surface of the water.

It was quiet. It seemed as though nothing could disturb the peace of the slowly approaching darkness.

The only other sound was the chirping of crickets and the faint music coming from inside the rental house.

The party was just kicking off. The guys had gone into town and picked up tons of food and liquor and the girls stayed to spruce the place up a bit.

Ted had searched through the stacks of vintage records and picked out a few selections.

"Love is a Lie" by Lion was blaring through the turntable.

Jimmy leaned against the doorframe, seeing Doug and Sara curled up on the sofa and Sam and Paul making out on the staircase, and sighed.

Tina and Terri were on the other sofa, whispering excitedly and giggling.

Just ask one of them to dance, Jimmy urged himself. It couldn't that be that hard. What if they laughed in his face?

Damn Ted and his bullshit.

They had made a bet when they were out getting beer that he could get one of the twins in bed before Ted.

Jimmy was starting to fear he might lose twenty bucks.

What would girls like those want with such an awkward guy like him?

He just needed a little confidence. His dad always used to say that girls found confidence sexier than anything else.

Maybe it was finally time to start listening to someone else rather than Ted. What did Ted know? He wasn't even dating anyone. He never held down a girl for more than a few weeks at the most.

He always claimed that he couldn't be wasting his time being tied down to one girl, that he always was on the move, and on the lookout for new sex and for new experiences.

But what kind of life was that?

Didn't he ever want to fall in love, get married, and have a steady job? Now that Jimmy thought of it, Ted didn't even have a job. He bounced around jobs more than he did girls.

Jimmy wanted more than just sex all the time with strangers. He wanted something real.

Maybe one day.

But now, he was hornier than ever, and he finally took a breath, and made his way over to the couch.

"Would either of you care to dance?" he asked the twins, extending his hand.

Terri looked at Tina with a coy smile, and then back at Jimmy.

"To this song?" she asked, hearing the boisterous rock music coming through the turntable in the corner.

"This? This is good!" Jimmy said.

Terri hesitated.

"Sure," she said and took his hand.

Jimmy led her to the room, and they both began moving to the beat. Terri couldn't help but snicker at his awkward dancing.

He was thrashing and bobbing his head like some kind of maniac. He looked like he was having an episode of epilepsy.

But she didn't say anything and kept moving with him.

What a dork, she thought. She gazed over at Paul and Samantha. Now that guy was cute. Or maybe the guy sitting next to Sara. What was his name again? Doug, that's right.

Doug could do so much better than her.

God, you're a bitch, Terri thought to herself. She couldn't help it. She knew she was absolutely beautiful. Guys at school couldn't keep their hands off of her.

It was just that the two hottest guys at this party are taken by a total sleaze and a flat-chested nobody.

The only other two guys were this loser and the total Elvis-wannabe idiot who was now coming on to Tina.

"Come on, give the ol' Teddy Bear a kiss," Ted said into Tina's ear and she pushed him away.

Tina stood up and walked into the kitchen, as Ted slumped on the couch, rejected.

Maybe she could pull that bimbo off of Paul and take him upstairs and show him what real sex is like, Terri thought.

Why was she such an awful person? That was always how it had been her entire life. That's how they were known around Crystal Lake High.

Tina was the slut, Terri was the bitch.

At least Terri got along with her sister, for the most part. Terri had always been a mother to Tina even though she was only about five seconds older.

She made sure that she was being safe, and having sex responsibly, not risking getting STDS, or worse, getting pregnant.

Their mom died when they were little and so all they had was their dad who just sat around the house for the better part of his day, knocking back bottles of scotch and cigars and cursing at them every chance he got.

Sure, maybe she wouldn't be as much of a bitch if she didn't have to deal with all the anger inside at her asshole of a dad, but what could she do?

Tina just dealt with her frustration by screwing every guy she met.

Just then, the loud rock music died and Frank Sinatra's rendition of "Tangerine" began to play.

"Hey, why'd you change it?" Jimmy asked Paul who was switching out the records at the turntable.

"Relax, Jimbo, your girl's going to love this one," Paul said and walked over to Samantha, who swathed her arms around his waist and gently swayed with him, burying her head in his chest.

Jimmy glanced awkwardly at Terri and laughed.

"Why not?" she said and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I'm getting a drink, anyone else want anything?" Sam called into the living room, heading for the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'll take a beer!" Ted yelled.

I could have him falling all over me, Tina thought, watching Sam leave Paul alone by the turntable.

That Selma Hayek wannabe is way in over her head. What he needs is a woman, not a girl.

Tina took a quick glance into the mirror on the wall, fixed her hair and checked her teeth, and walked over to Paul coquettishly, putting on her best sexy look.

"You like this stuff?" she asked about the soft jazz humming through the brass phone of the record player.

"Yeah," he said.

"You like slow dancing?" she asked flirtatiously, pushing up closer to him.

Samantha walked into the room, tossing a beer can to Ted and holding hers in the other. She saw Tina and Paul.

What did that bitch think she was doing? Sam thought, seeing the glazed look in her eye as she stared up at Paul.

It was the same look she gave Paul whenever she wanted to get it on with him.

Samantha made a wry face and hurried over, stepping in front of Tina and throwing her hands around Paul's neck dramatically.

"Kiss me you fool!" she exclaimed a la Olive Oyl.

Paul yanked her into his arms.

" _Soitenly_!" he exclaimed imitating Popeye, and kissed her playfully, resulting in loud laughter from Sam, who snuck Tina a dirty glare out of the corner of her eye.

Tina gave her an equally nasty look back and sauntered over to Ted sitting on the couch.

'Want to dance?" she asked reluctantly. Maybe seeing her with Ted would Paul jealous and he'd finally see what she could do for him.

Ted jumped to his feet like a dog hearing his name.

"Let Teddy Bear show you how it's done," Ted said.

And the night went on, everyone oblivious to the man in the hockey mask right outside the window watching them.

* * *

Trish and Rob stepped out of the front door and closed it, embracing the warm brush of the night breeze coming from the lake and listening to the soft singing of crickets and owls hooting in the trees.

"Wow, your mothers an amazing cook," Rob said, lifting his backpack higher on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Since our dad's not around, she had to adapt. She used to hate it," Trish answered, walking down the path towards the road with him.

"So it's just the three of you out here?" Rob asked.

"Yeah. My parents are seperated. You know, middle-aged crazy," Trish sighed. " I kinda hope that they get back together,"

"I hope so too," Rob said sympathetically.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Say something, Trish prodded herself. Don't just walk in silence.

"Um...looks like another rainy one," she said, staring up at the dark clouds that were beginning to cover the stars.

Nice going, she thought. Real smooth.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Listen, if it ever gets too bad out there or you just need to take a shower, we're always at home. And if we're not, Tommy usually leaves the door open," Trish said.

Rob nodded in understanding.

"Just stay on the trail. It leads around the lake," Trish explained, pointing in a general direction.

"Thanks," he said.

Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, and after a soft brush of his hand on hers, he walked off into the night towards the lake.

Trish watched him leave, feeling her heart beating ten times faster and the flesh of her cheeks turning beet red.

He was definitely older, probably in his early twenties. But her parents were ten years apart, and when did age become some kind of impossible barrier to overcome?

What are you saying, Trish? You picked this guy up on the road in your car and now you were having fantasies about him?

As she walked back towards the house, she begin to wonder about his body, picturing him naked under those dirty clothes, imagining the feeling of his warm body on hers, moving with her, inside her...

You're being ridiculous, she laughed at herself. Fawning over a guy much older than her that she had just met who could be some kind of maniac.

But something about him seemed so mysterious and alluring. She also couldn't stop thinking about why he was out here. He had blatantly lied when he told Tommy and she that he was hunting bear. And at the dinner table, he changed his story and said he was doing a survey of the lake's wildlife.

What in the world was he doing out here?

She didn't know, but she had an uneasy feeling about him.

He was friendly and charming and handsome, but she could just tell he was hiding something and she had no idea what.

Trish walked back inside the house and closed the door.

She sauntered through the living room and into the kitchen where Mrs. Jarvis was at the kitchen sink scrubbing a casserole dish clean.

"Well, he was nice," Mrs. Jarvis said seeing Trish out of the corner of her eye. "But promise me you won't bring home any more strangers,"

Trish smiled.

"I promise. But he did fix the car and he looked like he needed a place to crash," she said, sitting on a barstool.

"You did a nice thing, but he could have been a maniac," Mrs. Jarvis said.

She turned to Trish, hesitated, and then said "I just want you and Tommy to be safe,"

"I know but..." Trish started to say.

"No, just listen," Mrs. Jarvis interrupted, her eyes filled with concern. "There's something I haven't told you and Tommy because I didn't want you to be scared, but there's some bad stuff going on,"

"What? Trish asked, her voice sounding worried.

Mrs. Jarvis hesitated longer, deciding whether or not to tell her about the murders.

"... Some kids got killed up near the camp,"

Trish's eyes widened.

"The news said it was bad. They were killed by a psycho living in the woods. You see how unsafe it can be to just let someone into our home?"

"Oh... I'm sorry. I had no idea. Did they catch him?" Trish asked.

"He's dead. They killed him, but it just goes to show that you can't trust people nowadays. Some people are really sick," Mrs. Jarvis said.

Had Trish heard her mother right? Killed? As in murdered? She shuddered down to the soles of her feet.

"Just be careful, alright?" Her mother said, interrupting Trish's thoughts.

Trish nodded after a pause.

"I will,"

* * *

"How ya doing with Terri?" Ted asked Jimmy, who was leaning against the kitchen counter.

Jimmy didn't answer, pretending to ignore him.

"Nowhere, huh?" Ted said, shaking his head.

"She hates me Ted," Jimmy said.

"Look, Jimbo, you gotta warm her up first,"

"I don't need any of your advice, Ted," Jimmy rebuffed.

"Look, just do what I do," Ted started to say.

Jimmy watched as Ted stuck his hand in his pants, unzipped his zipper with the other, and stuck his pointer finger through the zipper of his jeans, wagging it at Jimmy.

"Now, don't be such a dead fuck," Ted said, guffawing with laughter at his own joke.

Jimmy slammed his hand on the counter.

"Look, Ted, I told you I didn't like that. Besides, you have the hot one of the two," Jimmy sighed with frustration.

His eyes grew wide as Tina stepped into the room.

Ted still had his hand in his pants, cracking up at his charade.

Jimmy swatted him and Ted turned to see Tina standing in the doorway, a puzzled expression on her face.

Ted laughed nervously.

"Hiya," he said, waving with his hand that was poking through his zipper.

Jimmy groaned.

"He thinks that's funny. He thinks that's a funny thing he's doing," Jimmy said.

Tina stifled a giggle, grabbed a beer from the counter and walked back into the living room.

"Great, now you've ruined it for me with her too," Jimmy sighed, walking back into the living room.

Ted reached out and grabbed him, pulling him back.

"Hey, Jimbo, I'm trying to help you out," Ted protested, but Jimmy knocked his hand away and walked out of the room.

* * *

The teens gathered around the living room, Tina and Terri standing in the center of the circle.

Paul punched a hole through the bottom of two beer cans with a corkscrew, fizz bubbling to his lips as he sipped it up.

He handed one beer can to Tina, and one to Terri.

"Alright, first one to chug wins," Paul said. "You ready, girls?

Tina and Terri both nodded, giggling with excitement, bringing the cans up to their lips.

"Ok, on three," said Paul.

" _ONE…TWO…THREE!"_ the group chanted.

Tina and Terri both tilted their head back, guzzling the beer as fast as they could, most of it ending up on the floor. The teenagers urged on both girls, laughing and cheering boisterously.

After a minute of drinking and chaos, Tina finished and lifted her beer can in the air in victory.

Terri fell back into a chair, defeated, laughing hysterically.

"The winner is Tina!" Paul shouted as the group cheered exuberantly, all except for Samantha who watched as Tina leapt into Paul's arms, hugging him for longer than she was comfortable with.

"What do I win?" Tina said to Paul, biting her lip coyly.

"What do you want?" Paul asked.

"How about a dance?"

Paul smiled.

Samantha's jaw dropped.

"Jimbo, put on another record," Paul pointed to the turntable, and pulled Tina close.

Jimmy picked up a record, and put it on the turntable.

"Stella by Starlight" poured into the room softly, as Tina draped her arms around Paul's neck and they gently swayed back and forth, Paul's hands on her hips.

Tina caught Sam giving Paul an icy stare.

"Oh, you don't mind, do you?" Tina asked, with a bitchy smirk.

Samantha watched as she leaned her head on Paul's shoulder.

"Actually, I'm going to take a swim. It's getting a bit too close in here for me," Sam said coldly, and stormed out of the house, banging the front door closed after her.

Sara moved for the door, concerned.

"Sam, wait!" Sara called after her, but Doug grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him.

"Sara, Sara, let's just dance," Doug said.

"I don't want to dance, I want to check on her. She looked really upset," Sara protested.

"Let's just mind our own business," Doug said. "I'll talk to Paul tonight, alright?"

Sara sighed, not taking her eyes off the door.

She turned back to Doug.

"Alright," she gave in, and leaned in to him, still thinking about how angry Samantha looked.

They never should have brought those girls to this party. Really, Sam and Sara had talked before the party and it was actually only the guy's decision to bring them.

The girls never got a say in it.

Sara had seen Tina making eyes at Doug the entire night too. She knew it was a matter of time before something like this happened.

But Doug was right. Just let Sam and Paul work this out on their own, she told herself.

The teens had much bigger things to worry about.

* * *

That bitch, Samantha thought nastily as she walked down the trail towards the lake.

She just shows up at our party with her just-as-slutty sister and ruins everything. She warned Paul that she didn't have a good feeling about them. He didn't listen. Sometimes his dick could really get in the way of him actually thinking sensibly.

She stopped and took a deep breath, the burning sensation in her chest slowly fading.

That bitch, she thought again. That bitch, that bitch. She wanted to rip them apart with her bare hands. She wanted to hit her as hard as she could.

But that's how a guy would have done it, and she wasn't about to stoop down to that level. Girls didn't fight like that. They did it all in secret.

She was all over him. They almost had to mop up her drool.

Wasn't there some kind of secret code for women? If there was, the first rule should be to never go after a taken man. It just wasn't right. Shouldn't women look out for each other? Shouldn't women never go after another woman's man?

I would never do anything like that, Sam said. Sure, she was promiscuous, but never a home wrecker or a cheater.

It just wasn't right.

Of course, Tina wasn't the only one to blame.

Paul was just letting it all happen. She wasn't really as hurt about Tina, but she was more hurt that Paul didn't stop her. Nobody tried to stop her. They just let her practically molest him in there.

Paul didn't do a damn thing to stop her, or reject her. He had a fucking girlfriend, why didn't he tell her no? Was it that hard to resist someone's sexual advances for a guy?

For her it was easy.

Whenever some creep hit on her at a party, all she did was tell him that she had a man, and that was that.

For some reason, guys just couldn't keep it in their pants.

All she needed was a nice dip in the lake just to clear her head. Maybe Paul would come to his senses and join her.

Samantha shivered as a cold breeze brushed her bare arm. It was getting colder by the minute.

She continued down the winding trail, hugging her arms to her chest, still shaking her head in anger.

She still pictured them, pressed up against each other. That bitch, she thought again, repeating it over and over again in her head until in some kind of strange therapeutic way, it made her feel better.

She knew that something was up when they met the two of them on the trail earlier. Paul had that look in his eye, the same look that he had when he had come on to her a hundred times before.

He probably led her on, she thought. He was practically panting like a dog in heat over her. All the guys were. She even caught Doug staring at Tina's ass when they were swimming, but she didn't tell Sara.

Sam could take something like this happening. She was pissed, but Sara would have been devastated.

That slut can take Paul, but if she so much as touches Doug and hurts her best friend, she would have hell to pay.

Sam could make out the sign that read Crystal Point through the darkness, and stepped onto the sandy shore.

The lake looked eerily calm. A white mist hung over the surface of the water like an oppressive cloud. The night was quiet and still, all except for owls and crickets, and the gently lapping of the water onto the shore.

She shivered, glancing around, making sure nobody was watching, and stripped down to her underwear, and then nude.

Just then, a twig snapped.

She whirled around towards the trail.

"Paul?"

No response.

"I know you're out there, Paul!" she called into the darkness.

She let her hands fall to her side, revealing her naked body to whoever was out there.

"Hey, Paul, this is what you're missing!" she yelled bitterly.

Still no answer.

"Fine, screw you, Paul!" she cried, and turned back towards the lake.

She squinted, barely able to make out an inflatable yellow raft floating out in the middle of the lake.

They must have forgotten it on the shore this afternoon, and it got swept out into the water.

Samantha stuck her toe into the water, and after deciding that it was bearable, she dove into the water, paddling towards the raft.

She grabbed hold of the rubber grips on the side of the raft and pulled her body up onto the raft, sprawling out on her stomach.

How dare Paul be all over some white trash backwoods bitches when he could have all this? That was the thing with men. When they're trying to get with you, they're sweet and kind and opening doors for you. When you go out with them and be their girlfriend and fuck them, they don't want anything else to do with you and they just want to move on to the next best thing. They were all disgusting.

 _Crack._

Another twig snapping on shore caught her attention. She looked up towards the dock and thought she saw some bushes moving.

"Paul?! Paul?" she called. No answer. "Screw you, Paulie,"

She sprawled back out on the rubber raft, trying to ignore the cold water seeping through the bottom.

And then she heard something else. Water splashing. Like someone was coming through the water towards her.

She didn't have time to look up to see who it was, because just as a huge splash of water came over her, a meaty hand clamped down on the back of her head, pinning her to the raft.

Sam screamed as loud as she could, trying to fight against the hand on the nape of her neck, but it was too powerful. She twisted her head around underneath his hand just enough to see the white goalie mask that the huge man leaning into the raft and pinning her down was wearing.

There was a loud _thunk_ and a hiss of air as something penetrated the bottom of the raft and Sam felt a searing hot pain like nothing she had ever felt before in her abdomen.

She felt cold steel rip through her torso, and as she let out a last guttural shriek, Sam was no more. The tip of the knife poked through the tender flesh of her back, crimson rivulets of blood cascading down her bare buttocks and pooling in the bottom of the raft around her.


	7. Chapter 6-The Hunt Begins

Another slow song hummed through the speakers of the gramophone, as Sara and Doug danced in one corner, and Paul and Tina danced in the other.

Ted and Jimmy sat on the staircase like sad puppy dogs, watching the lovers with dismay.

"That asshole. Man, I'm going to kill him," Ted said angrily, making daggers at Paul pressing close against Tina.

"Actually, Ted, I want to talk to you for a second," Jimmy said.

"Not now, dead fuck," Ted said flippantly.

'That's what I want to talk to you about," he continued. "I really don-"

"Do you believe this guy?" Ted interrupted him. "I had her, she was mine,"

Jimmy let out an annoyed sigh and leaned in close.

"Well, you know what, Ted? How about you run that through your little computer?"

Ted gave Jimmy a dirty glare, as Jimmy smirked evilly and sauntered off into the kitchen.

Ted watched him leave with narrowed eyes, and then turned his attention to Terri, who was coming his way.

Ted jumped to his feet.

"Hey…you wanna dance?"

Terri scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm just using the bathroom, _Teddy Bear"_ she said mockingly, and pushed past him up the staircase.

Ted watched her climb up the stairs in disbelief, watching her firm ass flex in her spandex shorts.

He bit his knuckles in frustration, and plopped back down on the steps, defeated.

* * *

God, I feel like an asshole, Paul thought as Tina rested her head on his shoulder. But this girl was _smoking_ hot. So was Sam, but sometimes, Sam would just be in a weird mood and he'd have to go take a cold shower. He was sick of it. He wanted a simple girl that wouldn't ask questions, or get upset over every little thing, and would just have sex with him and there didn't have to be anything weird about it. No talk about their feelings, or their relationship, just sex.

What the hell was he doing? He loved Sam. He knew he did. He didn't feel the same about other girls that he did with Sam. Sure, other girls were hot but there wasn't any emotional connection. He actually had…..something more…. with Sam. He didn't know what it was, but she wasn't just a quick lay. She was smart, and funny, and could be nice when she wanted to be. That's why he decided to go steady with her in the first place, because she was different.

And now he was about to throw that all away for some girl he had just met.

Paul pulled away from Tina, shaking his head.

"What's the matter?" Tina asked, dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry, I can't go through with this," he said, and with that, he hurried out the door.

Tina stood there in disbelief, throwing her hands in the air and falling back onto the armchair.

Great, just great, Tina thought to herself.

This whole night was ruined.

Finally, she had a whole house of out-of-towners with incredibly sexy guys to fuck. She was so sick and tired of the same guys from her school. Most of them are hillbillies or delinquents, and the few that she and Terri rotated around were the only ones worth anything, but even they were simple farm boys.

Tina wanted something new and exciting. How thrilling it would have been to get to have sex with a city boy. She could tell all of her friends at school and she'd be treated like a goddess.

But Paul was too busy being a slave to that slut Sam, and Doug was with Sara, and now all that was left was Jimmy and Ted.

She took one look at Ted and sneered. What a total loser.

She looked over at Jimmy who came in from the kitchen and sat down on the couch.

He was kind of cute, in a boy next door type of way. Definitely wasn't her type. But then again, this weekend had planned to be about trying something new. It may not be thrilling, but it certainly could be new.

What the hell? He would probably be better in bed than Ted.

Tina stood up reluctantly and ambled nonchalantly over in front of Jimmy.

"Do you want to dance?"

Jimmy's eyes widened.

"Dance with me?"

Tina nodded, grinning coquettishly.

"Uh...sure!" Jimmy stammered and jumped to his feet, pulling her into him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gently swaying and forth to the music.

Jimmy laughed nervously.

"I…uh…thought you wanted to be with Paul?"

"Well…now I want to be with you," Tina said, brushing his lips with her fingers and looking into his eyes.

Jimmy laughed again.

"Well…I kinda feel bad, I mean you and Paul were kinda…um…" Jimmy continued, but Tina brought a finger to his lips.

 _God…just shut up already…I'm horny as hell…"_ Tina thought.

"Let's go upstairs, Jimmy," Tina grinned mischievously, running her hand through his hair.

Jimmy didn't have time to react. She took him gingerly by the shirt collar and tugged him up the staircase. Jimmy gave Ted a look and followed her up the stairs like a kid following candy.

Ted looked on in disbelief.

* * *

"Samantha!" Paul called into the darkness as he jogged down the trail towards the lake.

He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. He had almost lost a sexy, intelligent bombshell of a girl for some girl that he had just met, a girl who he would probably never see again after they all went home back to their lives.

He began to prepare himself to face her, because when she was angry, she would throw, kick, hit, scream, and everything in between.

Paul was surprised she hadn't gone totally nuts on Tina back at the house, but it was all that passive-aggressive shit that girls did. Hating each other from a distance, and it was vicious.

Guys just got it out in the open. If two guys are pissed at each other, they let everyone know. Girls sneak around and give fake compliments and sabotage and never go right at another girl unless she is pushed to her absolute limits.

Most of the time all of the fighting was done behind each other's backs.

But when Sam was angry, really angry, there was nothing passive-aggressive about it.

Paul stopped short at the edge of the lake, squinting through the layer of hazy mist hovering over the surface of the lake.

He could make out a rubber raft floating not too far out into the middle of the lake, and an arm was draped over the side.

"Samantha! Sam!" he called.

No response. Was she asleep?

What was that raft doing out there in the first place? It wasn't theirs.

"Sam!" he called again.

Still no response.

Great, was this his punishment? Having to swim all the way out to her in freezing cold water?

That was just the kind of bitchy passive-aggressive thing Sam would do. Fine, if that's the way she wants it.

Paul stripped off his clothes down to his boxer shorts and dove into the water, every muscle in his body tightening in response to the cold.

Knifing through the icy water, he raised his head and squinted his eyes trying to see into the raft, but the thick fog obscured his vision.

He stopped to catch his breath.

"Sam!" he called. Still no movement from the shape lying in the raft.

He swam up to the raft, and peeked over the side, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

It wasn't from the cold. It was from the sight of Sam's corpse, lying in the bottom of the raft in a murky mixture of lake water and blood.

Paul recoiled in shock, screaming and leaping away from the raft, thrashing around in disoriented terror until he finally found enough composure to start swimming as fast as he could back towards the dock.

He felt the wooden slats of the dock above him, and he felt the old, jagged wood splintering his hands as he struggled to pull himself onto the dock.

As he managed to heave his upper half onto the pier, he caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure through the wooden slats, coming down the dock towards him. In a split second, the long shaft of a spear gun was thrust out from underneath the pier, plunging into Paul's groin.

Paul's entire body writhed in the throes of pain as the spear penetrated deep into his manhood, and a blood-curdling, agonizing scream erupted from the bottom of his soul.

Before he knew it, he was lifted into the air, and a huge figure withdrew from the darkness underneath the dock, and the two menacing eyeholes of a hockey mask met Paul's pained stare. That was the last thing he saw as Jason pulled the trigger and the spear fired through Paul's pelvis and out through his lower back in a spray of blood, impaling him like a fish on a harpoon.

* * *

Rob was jolted awake by a chilling scream.

He pulled himself out of his sleeping bag, threw on his flannel shirt not bothering to button it and scrambled for his machete in the sheath near the tent flap.

He unsheathed the long, rusty blade, grabbed his flashlight and ran outside into the darkness, brandishing the machete.

It had come from the lake.

Rob sprinted towards the trail, running headlong into thick brush, slashing at branches with his machete.

"Hello!? Do you need help? Where are you?" Rob bellowed, waving the flashlight frantically.

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath and find his bearings. Pointing the flashlight around until he found the trail again, he kept moving down it, cutting aside any foliage with the machete.

"Hello!" he called again loudly. He stopped to listen, but there wasn't an answer to his calls.

Maybe he just dreamt it. No, that couldn't be it. He wasn't even all the way asleep when he heard it. At least, he didn't think he was.

"Hello! Are you out there!? Do you need help?!" he called again. Still no answer.

He made his way through the dark woods, listening, trying to hear anything other than his own panicked breathing and the light rainfall that had started to pour.

Shining his flashlight in every direction, he couldn't see a thing except for trees and pitch black darkness.

Someone could be in trouble. Someone could be fighting for their life.

Rob kept moving towards the lake, wincing as thorns slashed his bare feet. Finally he could see the moon glinting off the surface of the water, and for a brief second, he thought he saw someone moving down the shore of the lake and disappearing into the shelter of the trees.

"Hello?" he called. "Is someone there?"

No answer.

Then, a huge crash of underbrush behind him and Rob spun around to see a huge, dark figure move across the trail.

The figure was headed in the direction of Rob's tent.

"Hey! Hey!" Rob yelled at the top of his lungs, and gave chase, swiping a branch in half with the blade of his machete.

He followed the sound of the crashing underbrush, waving his flashlight frantically in one hand and his machete in the other.

Damn he's fast whoever he is, Rob thought and just as he saw the tree root in front of him, he tripped on it and toppled over, sending his machete and flashlight flying.

He felt a jab of pain shoot up his leg, as his knee hit the ground hard, and he cried out in agony.

"Shit!" Rob exclaimed, struggling to pull himself to his feet.

He found the yellow beam of his flashlight and picked it up off the ground, and shone it around until he found his machete.

Using a tree for support, he pulled up his pant leg, shining his flashlight on his leg. A small gash oozed blood just below his knee.

Wincing at the throbbing pain shooting up his leg, he rolled back down his pants and started towards his tent.

Whoever had just came barreling through here was long gone by now.

It was probably just a deer, but he could have sworn it had the shape and build of a man.

Rob hobbled up the trail until he reached the clearing where his tent was and stopped short when he saw something that made his blood run cold.

The back side of his tent was ripped to shreds, like someone had torn right through it.

"What the hell…" Rob muttered, tightening his grip on his machete and approaching the entrance to the tent.

He peered through the opening and froze in horror.

"Oh, shit..." he said.

Someone had been inside his tent. His newspapers and magazines were strewn all over the place, and his rifle had been snapped in two like a twig.

* * *

It had begun to rain, and thunder was rumbling in the sky.

"So, have you ever done this before?" Tina asked, as she and Jimmy both sat down on the edge of the bed in the upstairs bedroom.

Jimmy ran his hand through his hair nervously and chuckled. "No…I…I h-haven't" he stammered.

"That's ok. I've done it with virgins before,"

Tina stood up, spun around to face him, and unbuttoned the first few buttons of her blouse, grinning at him seductively.

"I think you're pretty neat," she said, and pounced on him, kissing him passionately. They both flopped down on the bed, hands wandering.

Jimmy couldn't believe what was happening, but he only registered the shock for a split second. What came over him next was nothing short of pure ecstasy and lust as her hand slipped inside the front of his trousers.

She straddled him, and Jimmy arched his back with pleasure as she sat firmly on his crotch. In three seconds, she had her top and bra off, and Jimmy was staring at her succulent, ample breasts and they hung down over him as she kissed him again.

Her tongue slid inside his mouth and met with his, and his hands found her ass and began to slide off her shorts.

In the next twenty seconds, they were under the sheets, inside each other and moaning with intense pleasure.

* * *

Terri stared with disgust across the room at Ted, who rifled messily through the contents of a small wicker cabinet, a joint hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth.

Doug and the goody two shoes bimbo were over on the couch, snuggling and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. It made her want to vomit.

Again, Tina had gotten the guy and she was downstairs with the biggest loser at this party. At least Jimmy was kind of cute.

Maybe she was just too much of a bitch.

This was what she got. Stuck downstairs with the rejects while her sister was upstairs fucking a pretty cute guy. If she would have given Jimmy a chance, maybe it would have been her getting laid.

Was it the way she walked? Or talked? The way she carried herself? She knew what her mother would have said. Her mother always said that some guys were just intimidated by confident women.

"What the hell is this?" Ted asked aloud, pulling out a reel of film.

"It's film, Teddy. I think I saw a projector in one of the upstairs closets," Doug exclaimed.

"Oh shit!" Ted guffawed with laughter, stoned out of his mind. "Let's see if it works!"

Ted tried to climb down from the stool he was standing on, and nearly toppled over the entire cabinet, sending the knick knacks crashing to the floor. He bellowed with raucous laughter again, and took a puff of his joint.

Terri rolled her eyes.

That's it, she thought. I can't take much more of this.

Terri stood up and headed for the stairs, climbing them two at a time, and strolling down the hallway, following the moans of passion.

She rapped on the door where the moans were the loudest.

"Tina?! Tina, I'm ready to go!" Terri yelled.

No answer, just further passionate moans in the throes of ecstasy.

"Tina, let's go!"

"You go!" a voice called from between moans.

Terri frowned.

"I'm going to leave without you!" She exclaimed.

After a moment, Tina's voice came through again.

"Take an umbrella," she said in a spiteful tone.

Terri leaned away from the door, insulted.

What a bitch, she thought. And to think, Terri was the one with the reputation for being a bitch.

"Fine," Terri responded, and stormed down the hallway, downstairs, and towards the foyer where she grabbed a poncho hanging from the coat rack. She didn't care that it wasn't hers at this point. She had to get out of there before she blew up.

Putting it on, she ignored Ted calling her and asking her not to go, and left the house, banging the door shut behind her.

Terri began to jog through the rain towards her bike, sitting beside Tina's under an old overhanging tree.

She wanted to kill her. Just kill her with her bare hands. She had wanted to break down that door and kill her.

But she knew she had to be the bigger sister and act like an adult.

She still couldn't believe it, how could she? Her own sister was letting her go home all alone, at night, in the rain while she fucked some guy she just met. Of course, that was their goal was to have sex with some new guys and have a fun time, but aren't sisters supposed to stick together? Party together, leave together? Surely there's some sort of girl code that must be even stronger for sisters. Twin sisters, even stronger.

One thing was for sure, she wasn't talking to Tina for a week. It was always how she got back at her. And she knew, only then, would Tina be begging for forgiveness. Every time Tina did something stupid like she always did, she would always come crawling to Terri to get her to fix her mistakes, or to forgive her.

They were supposed to be in this together.

Well, fuck that, because her sister was a whore.

Terri angrily snapped the kickstand back into place, and just before getting on her bike, she looked up at the bedroom window.

"Slut!" she screamed through the pouring rain.

Terri began to hop onto her bike, when all of a sudden a huge meaty hand clamped down on her shoulder, and before she had time to turn around and see who it was, another hand plunged a spear into her back.

Terri let out a scream that was drowned out by the rain, and stared down at the metal tip of the spear that protruded from her gut.

Jason lifted her into the air, the spear impaled through her abdomen, and hurtled her like he was shoveling dirt into the nearby tree trunk, her back snapping on impact.

Three down, five to go.

* * *

"Tommy, I'm going to towel off and then I'm going to strangle you," Mrs. Jarvis said as she stepped inside the darkened house, shuddering from the rain she was soaked in.

She had told him over and over not to leave the door unlocked. That psycho who murdered those kids at the old camp could just come waltzing right in.

She sighed, closed and locked the front door, and trudged through the house into the kitchen. She grabbed a dishrag off the counter and mopped the rain from her face.

What a perfect time to decide to go for a nighttime jog-right before the bottom fell out, Mrs. Jarvis thought sarcastically.

She glanced around. Where were Trish and Tommy? They should be back from town by now. She had told Trish to take Tommy into town for some groceries before the storm started, and it looked like they were stuck right in the middle of it.

She stared out the kitchen window at the rivulets of rain trickling down the glass and the lighting flashing across the sky. Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the walls of the old cabin.

Mrs. Jarvis moved into the foyer and tried the hallway light. The house remained bathed in darkness.

"Great," she muttered aloud. "Trish, Tommy?! Anybody home?"

No answer. She hoped they'd be alright out there in the rain at night. The dirt road leading to the house could get slippery and that old hunk of junk Trish was driving wasn't going to be any help.

They would have had to walk home today if not for that guy that Trish found on the side of the road. She shuddered to think about it. What was his name again? Rob, that's right. The stranger Trish had allowed to just come into the house. What would have happened if she hadn't been home? Would he have taken the chance to rob the house? Hurt her children? Try to…rape Trish?

Another chill ran up her spine. She shouldn't have thought it, and she scolded herself for thinking such awful things, but she couldn't help it. Ever since the news of those murders, she had been thinking the worst.

Mrs. Jarvis tried the light in the living room, and it didn't work either.

Storm must have blew the power out, she thought.

She walked back into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and poured some water into it. She sipped it slow, staring out the window above the sink at the rain.

Those poor kids that were murdered, she thought. Some of them were probably right around Trish's age. She heard on the news that only one girl survived and she was so traumatized, she was sent to a mental institution and was incomprehensible. She was Trish's age.

It was so bizarre – they moved away from the city to get away from awful things like murder and robbery- only to get to the country and some wackjob goes on a killing spree.

Well, at least he was dead and gone.

Mrs. Jarvis finished the water and set the glass in the sink.

 _Thwack._

It was something hitting the side of the house.

Mrs. Jarvis moved to the back door and peeked out, but the night and the rain obscured her vision.

It was probably Gordon wanting to be let inside. Great, she thought. He was probably covered from nose to paw in mud.

Trish opened the back door, and stepped out onto the porch, the wood sagging under her feet.

"Gordon! Gordon!" she called through the howling storm.

Another _thud_ came from around the corner of the house and Mrs. Jarvis craned her neck to see, but it was to no avail. The rain was coming down too hard for her to see much of anything.

She climbed down the porch steps and hurried out into the storm, the rain stinging her face.

"Gordon!" she called again. "Come inside, Gordon! Here, boy!"

She ran around the side of the house and came to a screeching halt.

There was someone lying on the ground in the mud. It was a girl. And she wasn't moving. Beside her was a bicycle lying on the ground.

There was something red all over the girl.

Mrs. Jarvis had little time to react, just as she started to open her mouth to scream, she looked up right into the eyeholes of a hockey mask.

There was the flash of a blade, and the lightning illuminated a hulking figure towering over her.

The scream never came out.

* * *

The rain drummed down on the roof of the rental house and the thunder cracked like a gunshot sounding off.

"I hope Samantha and Paul are alright," Sara said, looking over her shoulder out the window.

Doug wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer on the sofa.

"I'm sure they're fine," Doug said. "They probably made up and are shacked up somewhere,"

Ted had found a video camera and projector screen upstairs and had set it up in the living room. The reel of film he found was some kind of stag movie from the 30s. It was black and white, and grainy and out-of-focus.

The entire thing consisted mostly of a topless girl dancing around drunkenly, or sitting in a bathtub, or doing other mindless acts, but Ted found it hysterical.

Then again, he was high off his ass.

Sara and Doug couldn't help but snicker as Ted leaned back in the armchair, guffawing with laughter uncontrollably, puffing a joint.

"Is this what Ted always does?" Sara asked Doug.

"Pretty much," Doug said. "So, which bunk are you taking?"

Sara hesitated.

"Oh, it doesn't matter…actually, I was thinking you could take the bottom bunk," she said, trying to put on her best sexy face.

"Why, do you want the top bunk?" Doug asked, confused.

Sara shook her head coyly.

Doug's eyes widened with shock. Was she actually making a pass at him? Sara never wanted to do anything outside of making out, and he understood it-after all, she was a virgin and virgins were always scared about their first time.

It had been hard the past few months though. Paul was his best friend and he'd been getting pussy ever since middle school, and Doug had only had sex once. It was embarrassing.

Paul and Sam pretty much had sex at every party they ever went to, and Sara never wanted any part of it.

What was a guy to do? He would often space out on dates with Sara just because he was imagining what sex would be like with Sara. He'd have to fantasize, otherwise, he'd go insane.

But now, Sara was staring at him, her eyes sexually charged, and Doug grinned from ear to ear.

"Do you mean…." Doug started to say, but Sara put her finger to his lips.

"Just give me a few minutes, ok?" she said, and stood to her feet. "Goodnight, Teddy Bear," she said as she walked past Ted towards the stairs.

Ted gave a wave and another cackle of stoned laughter, and Sara climbed the stairs to the second floor, leaving Doug in awe and disbelief.

* * *

"Watch it," Tommy cried out as the sedan hit a pothole, splattering the side of the car with mud.

"Sorry, Tommy, I can barely see in this rain," Trish said, squinting through the storm coming down.

"Just slow down, the party's going to go on all night," Tommy said, sucking on his lollipop that he bought from one of those candy dispensers at the store.

Trish flashed him a look.

But he was right. She had thought about sneaking out after her mother had gone to bed, and possibly going over to visit those kids and hang out.

She hated living out here in the middle of nowhere. She didn't have anyone to talk to and it was driving her nuts. How did her mother stand it? How was she not losing her mind?

She knew what she would have said if she would have asked her about going over to hang out at the rental house –something about how staying out late with a bunch of hooligans participating in drugs and other illicit activities just wasn't healthy for a girl like Trish.

But Trish would rather have something bad happen than just nothing at all, like usual. Isn't that how you grow as a person? How you become stronger?

She needed to live her life, after all, she was eighteen, and she wasn't about to spend the next decade in this house out in the middle of nowhere in this hick town taking care of her mother and her 12 year old sibling.

She hated how awful that sounded and regretted it after thinking it, but she just couldn't help

herself.

Trish loved her mother and her brother, but sometimes, family could be too much.  
Being around them 24/7 with no breaks, and no time to see other people, was just exhausting sometimes.

But then she thought about what her mother had told her about the murders-about that psycho that killed those people up at the old campgrounds.

She didn't want her mother to worry, and so maybe, sneaking out wasn't the best idea. Going next door wasn't some huge deal though, why did her mother have to worry so much about every little thing? Don't leave the door unlocked, don't go out in the woods alone at night-there weren't even any bears out here.

Then she thought of Rob, and how mysterious but somehow still attractive to her…she couldn't pinpoint it, but something about him drove her wild.

Maybe it was his muscles or the curly black hair or his eyes….the ruggedness…she couldn't stop thinking about him. She also couldn't stop thinking about how he had lied when he said he was hunting bear. There's no bear out here.

So what in the world was he doing out here?

She got another chill. What if….no, Trish…don't be stupid, she thought. But what if he was the guy who killed those kids? Didn't her mother say he was dead though?

Trish chuckled sheepishly to herself.

Come on, Trish. Rob, a psychopath? A bloodthirsty lunatic? Get real Trish, this isn't some cheesy horror flick that you paid a quarter to go see at the drive-in.

Rob could be a little out of sorts, and a little mysterious, but he couldn't hurt anyone, could he?

He did lie, however. What was he doing out here in the woods?

She didn't know, but hopefully she'd seen the last of him, even though a part of her wanted to see him again.

Trish pulled into the driveway and drove down the winding path, stopping in front of the house. She glanced over and saw that the rental house lights were on.

She sighed a breath of relief. Hopefully, they'd stay up long enough for her to sneak past her mother.

Tommy and Trish huddled close and ran through the rain and the puddles that were scattered around the front yard, scrambled up the porch steps and went into the house, letting the front door close behind them.

"Mom, we're home!" Trish called.

The house was pitch black and silent. The only sounds were the thunder and the rain falling on the roof.

The living room and kitchen were empty.

"Where is she?" Trish turned back to Tommy.

Tommy shrugged.

"I dunno," he said.

Trish walked further into the house with Tommy behind her, looking for her mother, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Mom?" she called again.

Trish tried the light switch, but the house remained dark. Shit, she thought-it must be the storm.

Trish looked up the darkened staircase, seeing the rain pouring down through the window at the landing.

Trish and Tommy climbed the staircase and looked into Mrs. Jarvis's bedroom. Trish's heart sank as she saw the empty room.

"She's not here," she said, worry in her eyes.

Trish moved to the open bedroom window to close it.

"Maybe she's jogging," Tommy said.

"She's never gone this long. And in the rain?" Trish said, concerned. "I'm going to go down the path to look for her,"

"Me too," Tommy said eagerly.

'No, you stay here in case she comes back," Trish said, and moved for the door.

"I want to go," Tommy protested, but Trish whipped around firmly.

"Stay here and fix the lights," she snapped, and walked down the stairs into the living room.

Trish felt a knot slowly forming in her gut. Surely, there was nothing wrong, but still something told her otherwise. Her mother couldn't have gone into town if they had the only car, and she wouldn't be out jogging in the rain.

Trish made a beeline for the flashlight that they kept hanging on the kitchen wall, grabbed a raincoat, and headed out the front door into the rain.

"Mom!" she called through the whistling wind. "Mom!"

She started jogging down the trail that they always went down-the one that went around the lake.

"Mom!" she called again.

It was useless. The storm was shrieking all around her, and it was impossible to hear much of anything.

She shined the flashlight around frantically, searching for any sign of her mother.

She caught the glimmer of the lake ahead through the trees, and stopped.

Where the hell was her mother?

Trish slowed to a walk, pushing aside branches and stepping over fallen logs, the rain pelting her.

As she rounded a corner of the trail, her flashlight caught a glimpse of something else. Something yellow through the trees.

She squinted through the rain, trying to make out what it was, but realized she had to get closer.

Trish pulled aside the foliage and approached whatever it was.

It was a tent. A big, yellow tent in a small clearing.

Who the hell was camping out here?

Trish curiously peeled open the flap of the tent, and ducked down to see inside.

What the hell? She thought as she saw the messy interior.

Newspaper clippings were strewn all about the floor, there was a brightly lit lantern shining in the corner, and a broken rifle was lying in front of her. It had been snapped in two like a twig.

She crawled further inside the tent and rifled through the newspaper articles.

She picked one up and read it.

The big bold headline read "CRYSTAL LAKE MASSACRE."

Just as she started to read the tiny print, Trish froze. There were footsteps outside, softly crunching over fallen leaves.

Every muscle in her body tensed and she let the newspaper fall from her hands.

Shit, she thought.

The footsteps grew louder and louder, and a man's hulking shadow fell over the tent.

Trish's eyes widened, as she saw the shadow of a machete rise into the air above her head.


	8. Chapter 7-One by One

Jimmy and Tina were wrapped in sheets, bathing in the afterglow of sex. Tina's head was lying on Jimmy's bare chest, and his hand stroked her soft hair.

Jimmy couldn't fucking believe it. He couldn't believe that he actually got laid before Ted did, and by a total babe. Screw you, Ted. Screw you and your fucking computer.

He did it, he had sex and it was hot. That's what everyone was talking about? No wonder everyone was crazy about it, it was amazing. The feeling of being inside someone like that, and your body moving in rhythm with theirs- it was electrifying. It was stupendous. It was…amazing. Like nothing he had ever felt before.

The climax went even beyond that-it was if every inch of his body was being touched with some kind of elixir that brought a pleasure too intense to describe, from the nape of his neck to the tips of his toes, he felt it course through his veins and pump through his blood.

Lying there, Jimmy had started to wonder if Tina felt the same way. He was curious to know if he was good or not-maybe he could finally make Ted eat his words that he was a dead fuck.

Jimmy hesitated, and then spoke up.

"Hey Tina?"

"Mmmm…" she replied, too exhausted from the intense lovemaking session that had taken place to speak.

"Am I….am I a dead fuck?" Jimmy stammered awkwardly.

Tina laughed, and then brought her head up to look at Jimmy.

"You know what? I think you were incredible,"

Jimmy let out a sigh of relief and ecstasy.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said, laughing and kissing him passionately. "Don't you move, I'll be right back,"

Tina climbed off of him, slid out of bed, and threw on her shirt. She blew him a kiss, and walked into the adjacent bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Incredible…was that what she said? He was incredible. Holy shit, he was incredible.

Jimmy sprawled out, shaking his head in disbelief, unable to stop smiling.

He was incredible.

This called for celebrating. Jimmy remembered seeing some wine bottles in the kitchen. If he could find that corkscrew that Paul used for the beer drinking contest, he could pop one open and have him a glass.

Jimmy leapt out of bed, a jubilancy glowing through him, and pulled on his boxers and his shirt.

Grinning a devilish grin, he picked up Tina's panties and began to swing them around on his finger. Whistling a cheerful tune, he walked out of the room and down the stairs, where Ted was still puffing on a joint and laughing at the film on the projector screen.

Jimmy casually sauntered over to the armchair and sat down on the edge of it, plopping Tina's panties on Ted's lap.

"Why don't you run those through your little computer, Teddy Bear," Jimmy said proudly.

Ted was too stoned to be envious or bitter. He laughed uncontrollably, in a fit of cannabis-induced hysterics, throwing the panties up in the air.

"Hey, congratulations, Jimbo!" Ted said with a laugh.

"Why don't we grab a bottle of wine and celebrate," Jimmy said, and then looked Ted dead in the eyes. "She said I was incredible,"

Ted laughed hysterically again.

"Way to go, Jimbo!"

Jimmy strolled into the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of wine off the wine rack and strolled over to the sink. He began to rummage through the drawers, still whistling exuberantly.

Ted's laughing and the humming from the video camera drowned out the faint sound of the back door quietly creaking open.

"Hey Ted…where's that corkscrew? That fancy corkscrew for the wine bottle?" Jimmy called into the living room.

No response, just more buzzed laughter from Ted.

"Ted! Where the hell is the corkscrew?" Jimmy called louder.

All of a sudden, the missing corkscrew came out of seemingly nowhere, and the blade was driven into Jimmy's hand, pinning it to the countertop.

Jimmy let out a scream of excruciating pain drowned out by Ted's cackling, and he looked up from his quivering, bleeding hand to see a huge man in a hockey mask and a worksuit.

With his other hand, Jason reached into the kitchen drawer, withdrew a meat cleaver and swung it like it was nothing into Jimmy's head, burying it right into the middle of his face.

The cleaver sliced through Jimmy's nasal cavity and then into his skull with a sickening sound, but Jimmy didn't feel it. He was dead before he hit the ground.

* * *

Tina came out of the bathroom, her shirt open to reveal her breasts, but she frowned seeing the bed was empty.

"Jimmy?" she said. No answer.

The room was empty as well.

He probably just ran to the bathroom in the hall, she thought. Tina glanced around on the floor for the rest of her clothes, seeing her panties were missing.

Jimmy probably had run off with them to mess with her or something.

Tina laid back down on the bed, propping her head up with her elbow.

God, she hated to lie to him, but it was his first time, and he needed encouragement. Truthfully, he was just alright. She had been with worse guys before who made love to her much worse than Jimmy, but she had been with much better as well.

Of course, it was his first time and he was getting the hang of it.

What was she saying? He was terrible. Worse than many of the virgins that she had slept with.

She shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, but she didn't want to be a bitch like Terri. She may be a slut, but Terri was the bitch and that was the way she wanted to keep it.

People were always comparing her to her older sister-Terri this, and Terri that. Terri's smarter, prettier, stronger…well fuck that, Terri could be a real conniving bitch from hell sometimes, and Tina didn't treat people that way. Even if Jimmy was shitty in bed, she certainly wasn't going to say that to his face, especially after the way she saw his eyes light up when she told him he was great.

He was one of those guys that were probably pressured really hard by his buddies. Always bagged on about how they never get laid, called gay, called homo, just totally shit all over just because they are one of the nicer, more respectful guys that know how to treat a woman.

If you're a guy, you're either a stud who fucks every girl, or you're gay, pretty much. Tina hated the way guys pressured each other. So what if a guy wants to wait? She thought it was sweet when a guy was a virgin, and to be honest, she really did like Jimmy. He was cute, and he actually respected her. He was also so gentle, and maybe that's why he wasn't great in bed.

Tina liked a guy to be kind of rough with her-it was hot, and Jimmy took it slow and easy, which was sort of romantic in its own way.

She was glad that she had lied and didn't regret it. Why should she? Honesty is sometimes not always the best thing for someone. Terri would have told Jimmy straight to his face that he sucked in bed, because she was the type of girl who didn't care who she hurt to get what she wanted or just to have a quick laugh.

Of course, Tina had been the one who danced all over Paul and made Samantha leave. But Sam was a bitch too. Tina was just trying to be nice to Paul, and Samantha acted like she was a threat or something. How could they have a healthy relationship if they didn't trust each other? It was just one dance, what was the big deal?

Terri was really missing out, Tina thought. To be fair, the only guy left downstairs was that creep Ted, and Tina didn't blame Terri for not sticking around for that.

Where the hell was Jimmy? She thought. She got up and moved to the window, looking out into the front yard. The rain was still beating down hard.

No sign of Jimmy outside, but she saw two bicycles sitting under the tree where she and Terri had left them.

Wait, she thought. Didn't Terri leave? Why was her bike still down there?

Tina frowned, confused.

Maybe she hooked up with Ted after all, Tina thought.

Tina turned back to the window and gasped in horror.

A hockey mask was staring right back at her. It was a man, standing outside on the ledge.

And then, two hands lunged forward, smashed through the bedroom window from outside and grabbed her.

Before Tina could scream, an immense force yanked her forward and in a split second, she was thrown through the broken shards of glass and was flying through the air.

Tina screamed the entire way down, landing hard on the top of the 1973 Chevy. Her head hit the roof in an impossible way, her neck snapping in two, and her lifeless body rolled off onto the muddy ground.

* * *

Trish let out a horrified scream, as the machete slashed through the wall of the tent, coming five inches away from her.

Trish darted for the tent flaps, but stopped when two legs blocked her way out. Trish looked up in a panic at the man towering above her, and she gasped when she saw who it was.

It was Rob, soaking wet, caked with mud and blood, his eyes wide and frenzied, and brandishing the machete high above his head.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he bellowed angrily.

"What are you trying to do, kill me?" Trish shrieked, her body relaxing.

Rob lowered the machete and ducked inside the tent.

"Well, somebody is trying to kill me," Rob said, looking precariously out the tent and then zipping it up.

Trish was bewildered.

"What? Rob, what is all this?" she asked, gesturing to the newspapers strewn about.

"Trish, listen to me, I'm not hunting for bear out here," Rob said. "I'm hunting someone,"

Oh no, Trish thought. She knew something was strange about him. Her body tensed.

"What?" she asked, still perplexed.

"I'm looking for the man who killed my sister. His name is Jason Voorhees," Rob said.

Trish furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Jason Voorhees?" she asked.

"He's the maniac who's been killing kids up at Crystal Lake," Rob said.

Trish immediately remembered what her mother had told her.

"Oh…but what about your sister?" Trish asked.

"My sister used to love kids; she wanted to work with them. She was up here at Crystal Lake five years ago at this counselor training center. Her name was Sandra," Rob went on, Trish listening intently. "She was one of the ones murdered when Jason Voorhees went on his killing spree,"

"Oh god, Rob, I'm so sorry,"

Rob stared off blankly, his eyes filling with tears.

"Yeah…she was a good kid. And I've got to stop Jason before he kills anyone else,"

Trish reached out and touched him.

"But, isn't that man dead?"

Rob shook his head.

"No, Jason is alive. Look," Rob said, picking up one of the newspapers and flipping to the front cover.

"Jason was a young boy who drowned in Crystal Lake. His mother went psycho and killed some counselors at the camp; she was killed by a survivor. But then the killing started again, and the locals said it had to be Jason, and they were right," Rob explained. "This is Jason as a child, an artist's conception by a would-be victim,"

Rob pointed to a sketch of a young boy-he was missing his hair, and he was dirty, very physically deformed and grotesque in appearance. The caption read: "Artists depiction of young Jason Voorhees."

"But, the man who killed your sister is dead, my mom heard it on the news," Trish said.

"No, Trish, Jason's body disappeared from the morgue two days ago," Rob said, his eyes huge and foreboding.

"Maybe it was stolen," Trish said.

Rob scoffed.

"Trish, two people are missing from the morgue. Coincidence? Plus, I've seen him tonight. Someone was in my tent," Rob said. "Jason is alive, and I think you and your family are in grave danger,"

The color drained from Trish's face as she realized the horrifying truth.

'Oh god…" she muttered.

And then, she realized something else.

"Oh god, Tommy's back at the house by himself,"

They both exchanged horrified glances. Rob snatched up his machete and dashed out of the tent down the trail, Trish following close behind.

* * *

Sara stared at her body in the bathroom mirror and let out a long sigh. She was in nothing but a white bra and matching panties

She was slim enough, and her breasts were of an alright size. Certainly not the size of Sam's but decent enough, she decided.

She felt the knot twisting tighter in her stomach and her hands began to grow sweaty.

Was she actually about to do this? To have sex?

She was scared out of her mind. Could Doug tell? Would be able to tell and would it not be as great because of how scared she was? Would it hurt?

A million questions were racing through her mind.

She continued to survey herself, hoping Doug would like what he saw. She grabbed a white, fluffy robe off of the hook on the door, and slipped it on, tossing her hair behind her shoulders and giving herself another look.

You got this; she consoled herself, feeling the knot screwing even tighter.

God, this is terrifying. Even more terrifying that she thought it would be. Sam made it look so easy. But she had the looks to pull it off. Sam could fuck any guy she wanted.

How she wished she was Sam sometimes…to be able to manipulate any guy to do just about whatever she wanted and to be able to sexy and flirty.

Sara took one last look, checked to make sure she didn't have anything in her teeth, and strolled out into the hallway, seeing Doug coming up the stairs, his eyes lustful.

"You look amazing," Doug said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Sara felt her face growing hot as his arms caressed her, and she felt a tingling sensation rush from her head down to her toes.

"Um…thanks. Do you want to go to the bottom bunk?"

"No..I was thinking about a nice shower," Doug said.

Sara hesitated, a small panic beginning to flutter in her heart. A shower? Would that be unsafe?

Sara blocked out that thought. Just go with it, she told herself. She had to start letting go of worry and just doing things without thinking for a change.

'Sure," she said seductively.

They lip locked in a passionate kiss, filled with a lust that they both didn't see coming, and backed away into the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

* * *

Ted was officially starting to feel the after effects of the weed hit him. And they hit him like a truck.

He couldn't actually believe Jimmy got laid before he did.

Ya blew it, Teddy bear, he thought to himself. Ya really fucking blew it. Both of the twins hated his guts, and there were no other girls left to screw around with.

The girls at Crystal Lake high gave him the nickname Teddy Bear, and not as an affectionate pet name, but as a way to let other girls know he was coming and to get the hell out of dodge.

It was the same way at school. None of the girls actually liked him or fucked him; he just said that he got a lot of pussy to look good. Maybe he was just too forward.

What the hell was he doing wrong? He was good-looking, had great hair, smooth-talking…he was doing everything right. He was doing every single thing right, everything that he read in all of the best dating books out there.

Charm them, romance them, tell them how beautiful they are, and nothing worked. Still, he was rejected constantly. Jimmy could at least get a girl and how? Jimmy was too much of a nice guy. Girls like total sleazes, they just do.

It's that whole reverse psychology thing, where women like being treated like shit; it was sort of like a domination thing.

If a woman feels insulted by a man, it turns her on and makes her want to please him even more-Ted read all about it in some news article about this guy who got all these chicks simply by telling them straight to their face how worthless they were.

Ted didn't take it that far, but he still followed all of the other advice he had been given, and didn't have any success with any of it.

Maybe he didn't need to try so hard. Maybe he could just give up on women. They were so emotional…so needy, and such bitches sometimes, just look at what happened to Sam and Paul tonight, wherever the hell they are.

Ted laughed as the girl on screen danced to a cheesy 30s bee-bop tune, her breasts bouncing.

He got to his feet, and staggered clumsily up to the projector screen, and pretended to talk to the girl onscreen.

"Hey, don't you wanna give Teddy Bear a kiss?" he said followed by another boisterous explosion of stoned laughter.

All of a sudden, the projector screen went blank and the camera stopped rolling.

Ted's goofy grin faded to a frown, and he turned to face the projector, shielding his eyes from the bright white light.

Ted backed up to where the back of his head was to the screen, and he didn't see the shadow of the huge man step behind the screen.

It happened in a flash.

A butcher knife from the kitchen came ripping through the projector screen and plunging into the base of Ted's skull.

Blood splattered all across the blank screen, as Ted was yanked back through the rip in the screen and into the air like a fish on a hook.

Jason yanked the knife out of his head with a sickening squish, and let his body crumple to the floor in a heap.

He looked towards the stairs and started up, breathing laboriously, feeling the rage build again as he heard the running water and sounds of lovemaking….

* * *

The hot, steaming water sprayed down on the nude, lovemaking couple, ricocheting off of the glass shower walls and forming a pool at their feet.

It was happening, it was actually happening, Sara thought as Doug found his way inside of her…everything was melting inside of her and mingling together to build a huge wave of pleasure and intense ecstasy that started deep in her pelvis and diffused into the rest of her body.

It charged through her veins, and she let out a deep moan of pleasure, the steaming hot water running down her back.

Doug pressed her gently against the glass shower door, moving with her, moving in and out of her and coinciding with her moans of pleasure.

Sara couldn't have fathomed how good it was going to feel, but it felt so good. It was even better than she'd imagined it would be when Sam described it.

It did hurt a little at first, but after Doug had got going, it was smooth sailing and the pleasure intensified from there on.

How could something be this good? She thought, as she groped the small of Doug's back and then his buttocks and upper thigh. She moved her hands up and caressed his muscular shoulders as they rippled…she felt his body working to please her, working to make love to her, his muscles flexing…this was outstanding. Fucking outstanding.

She felt everything relaxing inside of her finally; after all this time, being so worried about everything-it all didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for her and Doug, and the hot steam that swirled around them.

Doug moved his hips a bit faster, and began to voice his pleasure too, moaning into her ear and Sara gave back louder, until they both crescendo-ed with the climax of their lovemaking coming to an end.

Doug pulled away, kissing Sara tenderly. Sara melted into him, her legs weak, still feeling him inside of her. She kissed him harder, her hands finding every nook and cranny of his body, touching him, exploring him…Doug cradled her breasts, and massaged her shoulders, his hands moving over every inch of her.

Sara finally pulled away and stared up at him, mesmerized. They both stood, wrapped in each other's arms for a few minutes, feeling the heat of the water and bathing in the steady flow of spray that misted them from the showerhead.

They basked for a while, and then Sara climbed out of the shower, and wrapped herself in a blue towel.

"Sara, I think I'm in heaven," Doug said.

Sara smiled at him, looking back into the shower.

"I think I'm in love,"

Doug kissed her again.

"I'll meet you in the bottom bunk," Sara said with a wink, and left the room, a smile plastered on her face.

Doug looked up at the stream of water flowing from the showerhead, letting it wet his hair and run down his back. He began to exuberantly sing _Tangerine_ to himself.

" _Tangerine…She is all they claim...with her eyes of night…."_

He couldn't believe they actually had sex; Was he dreaming? Sara Williams actually just fucked him? Unbelievable.

He remembered in seventh grade when she was known around school as the prude.

She was quite a sight too. Glasses, acne, braces…the works. She looked like a regular geek. But when she hit ninth grade, puberty hit her like a tank, and the boys were noticing, including himself.

Paul actually went for Sara first but when she wouldn't have sex, he went for Sam. Doug got the rebound, and sure, he was upset that she wouldn't fuck him.

But there was something about Sara that Doug really liked. Something sensitive and really special…different than the other girls. He meant what he said to her on the trail today, he really did love her. It was a deeper love than anything he'd had with other girls. Something more intimate. He could sit and have a deep conversation with Sara, just about life, family, their problems, their insecurities…it allowed for a much more intimate relationship, and it allowed for them to just have the best sex Doug had ever thought he'd had.

It was amazing, and he'd never had sex like it.

God, he loved her. He really did. She was smart, and beautiful, and now, they'd had sex and he couldn't wait to have it again.

Boy, when he told Paul that Sara had actually let him screw her, imagine the look on his face!

Yes, there was something truly special about Sara, and he was glad that she was his. Doug had even thought about marrying her, even though Paul constantly told him never to get tied down to one chick.

What was so wrong about settling down? He didn't have to ask Sara just yet. They could wait until after school was over and when they both got steady jobs and were settled down in a house somewhere. They could move off to the city, have a few kids, he could go to school and study to be a doctor like he always wanted, Sara could find her a part-time job and they'd be set for life.

Doug was snapped out of his thoughts by the bathroom door creaking open, and then closing.

"Hey, Sara, did you change your mind?"

There was no response.

A shadow fell over the glass shower door. The glass was blurred, and Doug couldn't see out of it.

"Hop back in, Sara, there's plenty of room. We could sing a duet," he joked.

Still no response. The shadow grew larger.

"Who is that, Paulie? Hey Paulie, is that you"? Doug asked. Still no answer. The shadow moved closer to the shower door.

Doug let the bar of soap slip from his hand.

"Whoops, dropped my bar of soap, Paulie, ol buddy, why don't you get in here and pick it up," Doug teased, laughing.

Then, the shadow grew even larger and Doug realized by the sheer size of whoever it was, this wasn't Paul.

Doug reached for the door, when suddenly, a huge, meaty hand punched through the frosted glass, shattering it to bits. The hand clamped over Doug's face and smashed the back of his head against the tile wall.

Doug tried to scream, but it was muffled by the hand grabbing his head and smashing it again into the wall.

Blood began to cascade down Doug's shoulders and into the pool of water at his feet, as Doug tried to swing his fists and fight, but another hand grabbed him and slammed him back into the wall again, his head hitting the wall with a _crack._

Dazed, Doug stared pleadingly at the man in the hockey mask who stood in front of him, his demented eyes staring back with utter hatred.

Then, Jason put both hands on either side of Doug's head and pulled him forward, slamming his throat down on the broken edge of the shower door, the glass impaling his neck and ending his life quickly.

The blood dripped down the walls and swirled around before disappearing into the drain.

* * *

Sara hit the off switch on the blowdryer, and placed it on the dresser, giving her damp hair a good tousle.

She tightened the towel around her nude body, and looked at herself proudly in the mirror. You did it, she thought. Your first time. It felt amazing.

What had she been so scared of? Would Doug have hurt you?

Now she knew why Sam teased her all the time. That's what everyone was so scared of? It was great, it was fun, it was relaxing, and there was nothing scary about it.

Doug had been so gentle with her. He was such a great guy. He had asked her before they started doing it if she was comfortable, if she was ready, and really made sure she wanted to do it beforehand.

I'm so lucky, Sara thought. She couldn't wait to tell Sam and see the look on her face when she found out her best friend just had sex. Sam will be so proud of her.

Sara primped in the mirror, laughing out loud in jubilancy, feeling like a new person.

She finished making up the bottom bunk, and walked out into the hallway, stopping outside the closed bathroom door.

"I came to hear you sing," Sara said through the door. There was no response.

She frowned.

"Doug?" she said.

She pushed open the bathroom door and froze.

Doug was slumped forward, halfway dangling out of the shower, a jagged shard of frosted glass impaling his throat.

There was so much blood. All over the shower walls, completely painting the inside of the shower, and the floor in front of the shower.

Sara let out a blood-curdling scream, throwing her hands to her face as a bright, pulsating incandescent terror trip-hammered through her system.

"Sam! Samantha! Ted! Oh my god!" she shrieked, hurtling herself down the hallway away from the horrible sight and careening down the stairs two at a time in a panic.

She sprinted through the living room, saw the blood-stained and ripped projector screen, and screamed.

"Oh my god! Sam! Sam, somebody help me!" Sara screamed again, throwing herself at the front door.

It wouldn't budge.

The back door was her other option.

Just as Sara started to make a run for it, an ax came hurtling through the front door with a crash, the wood splintering to give way for the blade as it lodged itself in Sara's chest.

Sara was thrown backwards by the force of the blow, hitting the floor, the ax protruding from her chest.

She stared incredulously at the blood blossoming on her chest, the towel and pooling around her, and eventually her body stopped trembling and her panicked breathing came to a stop.


	9. Chapter 8-Final Showdown

Tommy shone the flashlight down the basement staircase, listening to the thunder clap overhead and the rain pattering on the roof.

He hated going down there. The smell, the sounds he heard while he was down there, the cobwebs, the rats you could hear scurrying in the walls, and it terrified him. Tommy didn't like being scared even though he could sit in his room for hours and design the most realistic and terrifying masks.

His masks didn't scare him. They were just a manifestation of all of his real-life fears, except he was in control. He could manipulate the mask how he wanted, and make it do exactly what we wanted, but he couldn't control what happened down in the cellar.

He couldn't control the cockroaches running under his feet, or running into a spider web. He couldn't control the shadows dancing around and he couldn't control it if something was lurking in the dark down there…waiting to jump out and eat him alive…watching his every move, smelling his fear…waiting to rip him apart limb by limb and devour him.

When they were robbed back in the city, Tommy wasn't in control. He couldn't control that someone had violated the sanctity of their tiny studio apartment and taken what was rightfully theirs, and it scared him. It scared him to not be in control. Tommy hated that feeling.

The feeling of being totally helpless in a situation was the worst feeling he could imagine, and it came true down in the basement.

Tommy took a deep breath, and stepped on the first step, the wood sagging and squeaking under his feet.

The sour smell of must reached his nostrils, and he grimaced at the sight of a rat moving through the beam of his flashlight, two beady little eyes glowing in the dark. He arched the flashlight around his head, illuminating the silvery sheen of cobwebs strung across the beams above him.

He reached the bottom of the staircase, and moved through the dark and cluttered cellar, trying not to notice the bugs and the spiders, trying to block out the sound of the rats squeaking in fright and seeking shelter.

He pushed open a small crawlspace door, squeezed through and his flashlight beam came to rest on the fuse box. Every time the lights had gone out before during a storm, Trish and his mom always made him to be the one to go down and fix the lights.

Tommy, do this, Tommy, kill this spider, Tommy, go fix the lights, Tommy…it was all they ever said, and it made sense to him. When his dad left, his mom had looked at him and told him with tearful eyes that he was the man of the house now, and it resonated with Tommy.

His dad never really taught him how to be a true man, he only taught him how to fix a car and ride a bike and other typical boy stuff, but never how to actually handle situations like a man…like the head of the household, and that scared him too.

What did that mean? The man of the house? What would he have to do? It seemed like such an overwhelming responsibility to undertake, and a huge burden for him to have to be under.

Tommy didn't know what he would do in a really bad situation, to be perfectly honest; they lived out in the country and nothing all that bad happened. When they got robbed back in the city, Tommy had no idea what the man of the house was supposed to do. He had seen his mother and sister crying and shaking, terrified of someone coming back to finish what they started, and he just stood there uselessly.

What could you do? He was twelve; he had no idea how to make someone feel better or what to say to calm people down, or what to do in these awful situations that life inevitably brought.

Maybe he'd learn soon.

Tommy flipped the breaker switch and let out a sigh of relief, as he heard the lights flickering on throughout the house.

Then, a rustling sound came from a dark shadow of the room, and Tommy didn't even shine his flashlight in the direction. He scrambled back through the crawlspace door, bolted up the staircase and slammed the basement door shut, fastening the lock.

He let out a sigh of relief, just as he heard the front door bang open and then close.

Tommy dashed into the foyer, as he met Trish, frantically running into the kitchen to meet him. Rob came in shortly behind her, wielding a machete. Both of them were soaked from the rain.

"Tommy, thank God," she said, hugging him tight.

Tommy could see the panic and the fear in her eyes.

"Trish, what's going on?" Tommy asked.

"Tommy, is Mom back yet?" Trish asked.

"No, not yet," Tommy said.

Trish gave Rob a look, her eyes wide with worry, and she made a beeline for the telephone in the kitchen.

"I'm going to call for help," Trish said, hurriedly rotating the dial.

There was no dial tone when she put the receiver to her ear and the color drained from her face.

"Rob, what is going on?" Tommy asked, fear starting to take over.

"The storm must have blown the phone lines down," Rob said. "I'm going to go next door. Maybe"

Trish slammed the phone down in frustration.

"I'm going with you,"

"No," Rob said staunchly. "It isn't safe,"

Trish stepped closer, looking him in the eyes.

"I'm going with you,"

She turned to Tommy and grabbed him by the shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. She didn't want to tell him and didn't want to scare him, so she did her best to convey the seriousness of the situation with her eyes.

"Tommy, stay here and lock the doors, ok?"

"Hold the fort, Tommy," Rob said and they both ran for the door, as Tommy stood there, flabbergasted and scared out of his mind.

Trish stopped before they went out the front door, and saw Gordon perched on the couch.

Who knows what she was about to encounter? Gordon could provide protection.

She motioned him to follow.

Rob and Trish, with Gordon trotting behind them, stepped out into the pouring rain, and began to hastily follow the narrow path that connected the Jarvis house to the rental house.

The lights were out at the rental house and it was dead quiet.

Trish began to feel a pang of dread in her gut and a knot forming. This isn't how she wanted to spend her night-running through the rain with a maniacal killer running amok.

She hadn't even had time to process what Rob had told her, and now she was slowly realizing. This lunatic just might be out here with them, and it was starting to scare the hell out of her.

Trish and Rob climbed the porch stairs and stopped dead in their tracks.

There was a huge hole in the front door and shards of wood were lying all around the floor. It had been smashed through, or hacked down with an axe. Trish cowered behind Rob, feeling her heart began to pound.

"He's been here," Rob said, gripping his machete tighter in a defensive position.

Gordon all of a sudden began to bark and snarl, baring his teeth like he was possessed. He was looking straight at the house, his hair standing up on end.

"What if he still is here?" Trish asked hysterically, starting to panic.

"Here, take this," Rob said, holding out his machete. Trish shook her head, intimidated by the huge, razor sharp blade. 'Take it,"

Trish reluctantly took the machete from his hand and held it up in front of her, as Rob quietly pushed the door open into the house.

An eerie, oppressive silence had fallen over the once rambunctious and rowdy vacation home. It was far too quiet, and it was dark except for a bright white light coming from the main room.

Trish and Rob inched further into the house, seeing a video camera and projector screen set up in the living room. The projector screen was ripped right through the middle and stained with something red.

Trish felt a chill run up her spine, and she and Rob exchanged looks. It was blood, she knew it. It was blood. This isn't happening, she thought.

Gordon started to whimper, growling menacingly.

Trish stroked him behind the ears, trying to act like she wasn't scared shitless as to not frighten the dog.

Trish crept through the house behind Rob, gripping the handle of the machete so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

"I'm going to the basement to turn on the lights. You stay up here and yell if you see anything," Rob said.

"Here," Trish said, and handed him the flashlight. He shone it into a small alcove at the back of the house and walked further in, the beam coming to rest on a tiny door at the back of the alcove.

He opened it, and shone the flashlight down the rickety basement staircase.

Trish could see the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and his chest heaving. He was trying hard to mask his fear, but she could tell he was scared shitless.

Rob whipped his bowie knife out of his pocket, tried to keep a steady hand on the wavering beam of light, and started down the basement steps, eventually disappearing into the darkness.

Trish felt another chill across her bare arm as she realized she was alone in the kitchen. Where the hell was Gordon?

She tightened her grip on the machete, looking all around her. It was so quiet-a deathly still silence that terrified her.

And then, she heard a whimpering. It was Gordon, and he was scared to death. Trish hurried back into the living room just in time to see Gordon go sprinting up the staircase and disappear onto the second floor, whining the whole way, his tail tucked between his legs.

"Gordon!" Trish whispered loudly. 'Gordon,"

Then, there was the sound of breaking glass, and silence. Trish held out the machete out in front of her, and inched towards the staircase.

Her heart was about to burst through her chest, and her hands were warm and clammy. Every hair on her body was standing on its end, and she felt the lump in her throat growing to the size of the one in her gut, screwing tighter and tighter until it felt like someone was hitting her repeatedly in the stomach as hard as they possibly could.

It's all a misunderstanding, she kept telling herself. His body was stolen, Jason's body was stolen, and that's why it's missing. Bodies get stolen all the time. Jason is dead.

But a voice in the back of her mind kept telling her Rob was right.

Trish precariously began to climb the staircase, listening to every creak of the floorboards and watching every fleeting shadow.

She reached the second floor hallway, and pushed open one of the bedroom doors to reveal an empty room.

"Gordon!" she called in a frenzied screamed whisper. "Gordon!"

She saw another door that stood wide open, and when she looked inside, she gasped at the broken glass littering the floor.

Gordon had broken through one of the windows in the bedroom and fled.

Trish's blood ran cold. Something-or someone-spooked the hell out of him.

Trish felt everything in her telling her to run and get the hell out of that house, and she started to move for the stairs when she froze.

From where she was standing, she could see straight into the bathroom, and she saw the red on the floor. The crimson red staining the tile.

Trish made her way towards the bathroom and her knees went weak at what she saw.

It was one of the girls, strung up from the bathroom ceiling light like a slab of meat in a slaughterhouse, an axe protruding from her chest. Blood stained the white towel wrapped around her, and dribbled down her leg, pooling below her dangling feet. One of the guys that Trish had seen was propped up in the shower, naked and covered in blood, his face twisted in a frozen scream.

Trish let out a horrible piercing shriek, and she instinctively went careening in a blind panic towards the staircase, dashing down it two at a time.

"Rob! Rob, he's here! Rob!" she shrieked, bolting through the main room, almost tripping on the projector cables. She ran into the alcove and down the basement stairs, where Rob met her coming the other way.

"Trish, Trish, what's the matter?!" Rob asked, frantically trying to console her. She was incoherent at this point, a blubbery, sobbing mess.

"Rob, he's here, they're all dead, and Gordon…" Trish stammered hysterically, uncontrollably terrified.

Rob gave her one horrified look, and grabbed her hand, pulling her up the stairs.

"Come on, let's get the hell out of here," he said.

All of a sudden, there was the sound of splintering wood and the rickety staircase gave way, sending Rob's left foot slamming through and wedging down in the beams below the steps.

"Shit, I'm stuck, help me!" Rob exclaimed, trying in a desperate attempt to free his foot.

Trish yanked on his leg, tears pouring down her face, still petrified beyond reality. His foot finally gave way, and they started back up the staircase, when Rob suddenly went back down on an impulse.

'Wait, my knife," he said, but Trish tried to stop him.

It was too late. Rob was running back down into the darkened basement.

"Rob, let's just go! Rob!" Trish screamed.

She scrambled back down the basement steps, just in time to see a huge man lunge at Rob and heave him against the wall.

Trish saw the hideous features of the man were covered by a hockey mask, and he wore a blood-stained tattered worksuit.

Trish let out an even louder scream seeing the horrible masked killer slam Rob against the wall again.

'Trish, run! Run Trish! Oh God!" Rob screamed.

 _Do something_ , Trish's mind was yelling at her. But her body wouldn't let her. She was frozen, her body racked with unimaginable horror.

All she could do was watch in terror as Jason grabbed a gardening fork off of a shelf and began to hack at Rob. Trish could see his arm slashing rapidly and angrily, and she saw the blood and heard Rob's cries of agony. She screamed and screamed over and over again, trying to get Jason's attention, trying to make him stop, but he was unstoppable, viciously swinging at Rob again and again.

"He's killing me, Trish! He's killing me! Run! Run!" Rob bellowed in pain.

Finally, Trish's instincts surged through her body and she spun around, scrambling up the staircase as fast as she could, stopping at the top to look back down .

Rob's screams had stopped, and there was nothing but an agonizing silence.

Trish wasn't just going to leave. She had to do something. She couldn't leave him down there to die.

She mustered up every ounce of strength and courage in her, and ran back down the basement steps, stopping dead in her tracks halfway down.

Rob was lying on the floor, illuminated by the silvery moonlight flooding in through the tiny basement window.

She saw the blood on him, and let out a horrified sob.

"Rob…" she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. A wave of nausea had begun to hit her at the sight of Rob's mutilated body and she held back her instinct to gag.

Then, she felt the terror and the panic kick in. That monster was still down here and she realized it with such a force that she slammed back up the staircase as fast as she could.

Just as she reached the top, a hand suddenly reached through the hole where Rob fell, and grabbed Trish by the ankle.

Trish shrieked, looked down and saw two demented eyes staring at her through the eyeholes of a hockey mask.

She screamed again, and instinctively began to swing the machete as hard she could at the hand, satisfied at the sight of the rusty blade slashing into Jason's wrist and the bloody gashes opening in his disgusting grimy flesh.

Jason growled in pain and released his grip on her ankle, and Trish bolted up the stairs and slammed the basement door shut.

Get the fuck out of here, Trish's mind screamed, and she ran through the house to the front door, yanking it open.

She cupped her hands to her mouth in horror and disgust at what she saw.

It was another body, wet from the rain, lying there on the doorstep. Her neck was twisted at such an unnatural angle, and her eyes were bugging out of her skull.

Trish recoiled with shock and horror, and backed away into the kitchen, the panic of the situation beginning to overtake her.

Then she heard the heavy bootsteps thundering up the basement stairs and her instincts kicked in again.

Trish sprinted for the back door, flung it open, and screamed at the sight of another body.

It was Jimmy, crucified to the doorframe, four huge spikes nailed through his hands and feet, a huge gash in the middle of his face.

She whirled around, looking for another way out, seeing the kitchen window above the sink.

Trish didn't have time to unlock it. Jason was coming through the living room, looking for her.

She snatched up a chair from the table, and hurled it at the glass, smashing it on impact. She dropped the chair, clambered up onto the counter, and threw the machete out onto the ground first. Then, she dove through the window, picked up the machete, and she started running towards the Jarvis house just as Jason grabbed at her over the sill.

Jason growled in anger as he watched her run screaming, but then felt the white-hot rage that threatened to consume him subside as he heard her terrified screams.

Scream just like he screamed when no one could come to save him in the lake. Scream just like he screamed. Feel the terror that he felt, feel the horror and the helplessness. Feel the anguish that his mother felt about losing him, feel the anger and the heartbreak. He had watched her see Rob being murdered, just like he watched his mother be decapitated that night on the shore of the lake.

Hearing her screaming eased the rage within him, but it was back in a matter of seconds, and it burned much brighter than before, swelling in him like a balloon.

Jason walked towards the back door and ripped Jimmy from the doorframe, the nails tearing through his hands, and his lifeless body was hurled several feel through the air like it was made of cardboard.

He headed straight for the Jarvis house with the insatiable lust to kill driving him forward.

* * *

Tommy heard the frantic hammering on the front door and the screaming, and ran to open it. Trish scrambled inside, slamming the front door and locking it.

She was drenched and hysterical, still clutching the machete in her hand.

"Tommy, I need you to get me a hammer and nails, right now," Trish ordered, setting the machete down by the door.

"Is it Jason?" Tommy asked, his twelve year old eyes filled with terror.

Trish looked at him, confused. How the hell did he know? Then she saw the stack of newspaper clippings that Rob had left on the kitchen table.

Shit, Trish thought. He knew all about it now. And now, he was coming for both of them.

"Yes, Tommy," Trish said, with a horrified resignation.

The color drained from Tommy's face.

"Tommy, go get the hammer and nails now!" she screamed frantically, running into the living room and beginning to make her rounds, locking every window and bolting every door.

Tommy was in and out of the laundry room in two seconds, hurrying into the foyer with the hammer and nails.

Trish took a nail, and began driving it into the front door, securing it to the frame, and then started with another. This front door was old, and Trish could picture Jason being able to break through it like paper.

She kept seeing the blood, and the bodies, and Rob's lifeless form just lying there over and over in her head.

This can't be fucking happening, she thought, as she pounded in the last nail and backed away from the door, shaking with fear.

"Trish…." Tommy started to say, the realization hit him like a truck and he began to cry.

"Tommy, it's going to be ok, just go make sure all the windows are locked," Trish said, trying her best to console him, but even she knew this would all be in vain.

He was going to come for both of them and kill them like he'd kill the others. Trish didn't want to think her own mother was dead, but she knew the horrible truth all too well.

Tommy didn't move. He was standing by the staircase, watching the front door with huge eyes, ravaged with the horror of what he was realizing.

All of a sudden, Trish and Tommy both leaped out of their skin as the huge picture window in the living room smashed through, and Rob's blood-soaked corpse came crashing down on the hardwood floor.

The gardening fork was embedded in his skull.

Trish screamed as Tommy just stood, frozen in shock at the sight of his first dead body.

"Rob…" Trish said, her eyes wet with tears. She bent down and shook him slightly, a tiny sliver of hope in her that he was still alive.

But, he didn't budge.

Then, Trish heard another deafening crash, and she sprang to her feet to see a terrifying sight.

Tommy had backed into the other huge window in the room, and Jason was now reaching through the shattered glass, his arms wrapped around Tommy's tiny form and pulling him through the window.

"Trish! Trish, he's got me Trish!" Tommy screamed at the top of his lungs in his panicky, high-pitched voice.

Trish screamed a battle cry, snatched up the hammer from the floor, and ran to the window. She looked at Jason dead in his hate-filled eyes through the holes of that hockey mask, and she began to swing the hammer at his head, delivering solid blows but Jason didn't budge.

It barely fazed him. She was bashing him as hard as she could, but he didn't seem to feel a thing. She could smell the acrid body odor, and his stinking hot breath through the mask.

She saw his eyes again, and she caught the loathing. The hatred. It chilled her.

She didn't have time to think much about his eyes, because he was reeling back to drag Tommy through the glass shards and outside to do God-knows what to her little brother.

Trish swung the other end of the hammer with all of her might, and the two claws of the hammer buried themselves in the side of Jason's neck.

Jason growled in pain, finally releasing his grip on Tommy and staggering back out into the night. With two hands, he ripped the hammer out and began stalking towards the front door.

Trish saw him walking towards the door, and in a flash, she grabbed Tommy's hand and yanked him towards the staircase.

Just as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs, the front door exploded inwards and Jason came smashing through.

He had just walked right through it.

Trish watched as Jason reared back and hurled the hammer at them. It whistled through the air and impaled itself in the doorframe right beside Trish's head.

Then, he advanced towards them, his hulking figure looming upon them, his crazed eyes boring into Trish's soul.

"Go, go, upstairs, now!" Trish screamed, shoving Tommy forward and they both charged up the staircase, ran to the end of the hallway and went inside the first door they found on an impulse.

It was Tommy's room.

Trish and Tommy heard Jason thundering up the steps after them, and quickly closed the door, bolting it.

Trish frantically searched for a way to barricade the door, and she grabbed Tommy's huge dresser that he used to shelve all of his masks and action figures, sliding it across the floor in front of the door.

"Tommy, help me," she said.

The two of them managed to heave the enormous dresser in front of the door. They backed away from the door, crouching down and hugging each other tightly in the middle of the room, waiting to see what would happen.

There were a few seconds of agonizing silence, and then the door began to rattle and quake violently.

Tommy screamed, tears finding their way down his cheeks, as Trish hugged him tighter, trying to keep him calm.

She was starting to lose it as well, her heart racing, tears streaming.

After a few more seconds of Jason shaking and banging on the door, it suddenly got quiet.

It was an unbearable silence.

"God, what is he doing?" Trish wondered aloud, still holding the petrified Tommy tightly against her chest.

She expected something, anything to happen, but nothing did. Everything was quiet.

And then, out of nowhere, there was the sound of splintering wood and an axe smashed through the door.

Tommy screamed in fright, and Trish tried to cover his mouth with her hands, but it was no use. Jason knew exactly where they were. Trish saw him peer through the hole in the door, and his deranged eyes were staring directly at them.

Jason swung the axe again, and all Trish and Tommy could do was watch in horror as the barrier keeping them inside and Jason outside was being destroyed.

Seeing Jason start to reach his arm into the room, Trish sprang to her feet, looking for some kind of weapon. Nothing would work against that psychopath outside the door.

They were trapped like caged animals. He was going to kill them in this room.

Then Trish saw Tommy's old computer monitor still sitting on his desk. It was the only option she had.

With all of her strength, Trish lifted the computer monitor off of the desk and heaved it into the air, carrying it across the room.

Jason was shoving the dresser out of the way, reaching his head and arm into the room. He never saw it coming.

Trish slammed the monitor down on his head, and watched the sparks fly.

Jason's body convulsed wildly, as smoke began to fill the room. Trish ran back over to Tommy and shielded him from the sparks, putting up her own hands to deflect them from herself.

The monitor crashed to the floor and Jason staggered back into the hallway with a groan, crashing to the floor like a fallen tree.

Then, it was silent again, and Trish and Tommy didn't dare move from their spot, listening and waiting to see if he was really dead.

Jason didn't move or make a sound.

Trish stood to her feet, gestured for Tommy to stay, and inched towards the door, looking through the smashed hole.

Jason was lying motionless, but Trish could see his chest rising. He was just unconscious.

Trish knew she didn't have much time before he would come to. She motioned for Tommy to come to the door, and when he came, she grabbed him by the shoulders and stared at him in the eyes.

"Tommy, I'm going to get him out of the house, and when I do, I want you to run like hell, do you hear me? Run like hell," Trish said, baring her teeth in a hushed whisper, careful not to wake the unconscious maniac sprawled in the hallway just a foot away.

Tommy nodded in response, still shaking like a leaf.

Trish quietly opened what was left of the door, and stepped out into the hallway. She lifted her foot as quietly as she could and stepped over the hulking killer on the floor in front of her. She held her breath and stepped further over him, creeping around him to finally get to the other side.

Just as she passed him, Jason shot upright, picked up the dropped axe, and swung it at Trish as she shrieked.

"Trish!" Tommy cried.

The axe embedded itself in the wall, nicking Trish's right shoulder, tearing her shirt and ripping her flesh.

Trish fell backwards further down the hallway, as she looked incredulously at the blood beginning to flow from the gash on her arm.

Jason struggled to his feet, and started to head for Tommy who backed away in fear, shaking his head, pleading…

"No! Tommy!" Trish screamed. "Chase me you son of a bitch!"

Jason turned to Trish, and then back to Tommy, and then back to Trish, deciding who to chase.

"No, Trish!" Tommy yelled, but Trish kept urging him on.

"Come get me you bastard!" Trish screamed. "Leave him alone!"

Jason complied.

He charged at Trish with full force, and Trish screamed, whirling around and running down the staircase, hearing Tommy urging her on above her.

Trish bolted for the front door, leaping through what was left of it, and ran out into the pouring rain.

She spun around, and saw Jason barreling out of the house towards her.

 _That's right…chase me you fucker,_ Trish thought. She had to get him away from the house so Tommy could get out of there.

She ran as fast as she could, keeping as much distance as she could between them. Jason was hot on her trail.

Trish looked over her shoulder to see Jason coming up on her horrifyingly fast-the brute was running now, pissed as hell, and intent on killing her now more than ever.

Trish shrieked at the sight of the hockey mask right behind her, and ran faster; making a mad dash towards the only place she knew to go: back towards the rental house.

She leaped over Tina's bloodied body lying on the porch, and scrambled into the house, not bothering to close the door seeing how close Jason was.

She stopped and turned around, seeing Jason standing there in the doorway, his huge form blocking out the light from the moon outside.

His eyes stared her down, filled with the urge to kill, filled with intense loathing and rage.

It happened so fast. The next thing Trish knew Jason was running at her again, and she screamed.

She bolted for the stairs, Jason just an arm's reach behind her, and ran down the hallway, coming to the end and turning around to see Jason at the top of the stairs, staring her down again, those demented eyes not blinking or leaving Trish.

Trish stared at him with pleading eyes-she wanted to try to talk him out of it, but she knew it was no use. He was an unstoppable monster, and there was nothing she could do. She was trapped. At least Tommy could get out of the house.

Trish backed away, shaking her head, sobbing hysterically.

"Please…" she whimpered.

Jason didn't flinch.

He charged at her.

Trish instinctively turned, looking for a place to run, and she saw the window at the end of the hall.

It was her only shot.

With a scream and a quick split second to brace herself, she ran towards the window, made a flying leap and threw herself at the glass.

Fortunately, the glass smashed through on impact, and Trish went flying through the window and through the air, hitting the porch roof, rolling down and off into a pile of mud.

Jason leaned through the shattered window and looked down at Trish lying on her back on the muddy ground, motionless.

Trish could see him staring down at him, and she held her breath, hoping he would think she was dead. The second she saw him disappear into the rental house, Trish pulled herself to her feet as fast as she could and started running back towards the house.

She could feel the pain in her right leg that was shooting all the way up towards her thigh, but she ignored it, the adrenaline rush completely blocking all other sensations out.

She could see the blood on her arms from where the glass had cut her, but she didn't care; she had to get back to the house and try to get away.

She saw the car sitting under the tree in its usual spot. Maybe Tommy wasn't too far and she could catch up with him in the car, that is, if he made it out of the house.

The keys were in the kitchen.

Trish clambered up the front porch steps, dragging her pained ankle behind her, and hobbled into the house.

"Tommy?" she called.

She heard his voice call out from upstairs.  
"Tommy, you were supposed to leave!" Trish screamed through tears.  
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him. Jason, coming through the front door behind her. She could hear his boots thudding softly across the floor, and she smelled him-that awful stench of sweat and filth, and the deep labored breathing…

He was in the house.

Trish froze, searching her surroundings for a weapon.

Rob's machete was leaning against the wall by the door.

She covertly reached down, grabbed the handle, and just as Jason reached out to grab her, Trish swung around, the machete blade slicing through the air and just missing Jason, cutting into the doorframe.

Trish yanked the machete out of the wood and backed into the dining room-Jason advancing menacingly towards her.

She swung it again and missed, smashing a picture frame on the wall. She swung again, and Jason jumped back to avoid the blade.

"Stay away from me!" Trish screamed, swinging at him again.

He reached for her, arms outstretched, eyes filled with a lust to annihilate her. Trish swung and this time she made impact.

The blade sliced into his right hand, right between the knuckles of Jason's middle and ring finger. Jason growled in pain and yanked his arm back instinctively.

He held up his hand, staring at the blood spurting from the gaping wound that was almost splitting his hand in half.

Trish looked on in horror, shock, and relief that she had actually hit him, but that soon faded. The wound hardly fazed him.

He lunged at her again, and Trish screamed, looping around the dining room table and running into the living room

"Tommy, get the hell out of here!" Trish screamed up the staircase, and leaping back to avoid another grab from Jason. She swung the machete, and missed.

Jason kept coming, completely unafraid of the razor sharp blade slashing at him. Trish stared at the monster in the eyes, and bared her teeth.

"You son-of-a-bitch, I'll give you something to remember us by," Trish said angrily, her fear quickly bubbling up into anger.

She reared back like a slugger, and swung the machete like a baseball bat. The blade lodged deep in Jason's chest.

Jason snarled with rage, and with a single swipe of his hand, knocked Trish to the floor. She screamed as Jason lunged at her, climbing on top of her and pinning her to the floor.

Trish hysterically began to fight with everything in her. She kicked, screamed, clawed, but to no avail. HE was huge, and he was too powerful.  
He was going to kill her right there. Right there on her own living room floor, leave her bloodied, mangled body there for Tommy to see and have that image of his murdered sister engrained in his brain forever.  
Would he do other things to her? Torture her? Rape her?

No, Trish thought in horror. She saw the look in his demented eyes she knew exactly what he was planning to do.  
He took both of his hands and wrapped them around Trish's throat, clamping down and strangling the life out of her.  
He was going to kill her plain and simple.

Trish couldn't scream, and she felt her body going weak from the loss of oxygen. She clawed at his hands, tried to pry them free from her neck, but it was hopeless.  
And then, almost by godsend, a voice rang out, loud and clear.  
"Jason! Jason!" the voice bellowed.

It was inhuman…it was filled with anger…but still held the youthfulness of a child. It was Tommy's voice, Trish realized, but something was different.  
"Jason!" the voice continued, until finally Jason stopped strangling Trish and looked up at the staircase.  
Trish glanced up as well and saw her brother standing there, his head almost completely shaved.  
Tommy twisted his face into a horrible grimace, and stared Jason down.

"Jason…remember me?" Tommy asked, walking closer to Jason, talking in a soothing, hypnotic voice.

Tommy…Tommy, what the hell are you doing? Trish thought. She tried to signal to him with her eyes to run and get the fuck out. But Tommy;s eyes were transfixed on Jason.

What was he doing?

She scrunched up her face in bewilderment. Then she realized and was in awe.  
He looked like…He looked just like the artist's sketch in the newspaper…of Jason as a little boy.  
Trish tried to say something, but Tommy gave her a look. She knew exactly what he was doing.  
She saw Tommy's eyes flicker over towards the machete discarded on the rug, and Trish's mind clicked into place.  
It was a distraction. And it was working.

Jason was either confused, or intrigued, and was just standing motionless, cocking his head to the side like some kind of animal. Staring at Tommy. Staring at what looked like himself.

Trish, this was your chance, her mind screamed.  
Jason rose to his feet, and stared at Tommy, almost in a trance, his head cocked to the side.  
"Jason…Remember what you were, Jason? Don't you remember…?" Tommy said, drawing Jason closer and closer until they are an arm's reach apart.  
It was working…my God, it was working, Trish thought excitedly. It was putting the bastard in some kind of trance. It was working.  
Trish had to act fast before Jason realized this was a set up.

She quietly but quickly snatched the machete up from the floor, and crept behind Jason, slowly bringing the machete back over her shoulder.  
"Hey, Jason!" she yelled.  
He spun around, snapping out of his trance, just as Trish swung the machete at his head.  
She missed her mark, but the machete grazed Jason's mask, knocking it off of his head and sending it flying.

What was under the mask made Trish recoil in pure, unadulterated repulsion and terror, and the machete fall from her hands.  
He didn't even look human. His features were distorted and grotesque, his skin was greying and decayed, covered in oozing sores.  
It was ten times more horrifying than any of Tommy's masks. This wasn't made of rubber, this was all too real. He was a monster.  
Trish cupped her hands to her mouth in sheer shock and disgust and fell backwards onto the floor, scuttling backwards and shaking her head, pleading as Jason advanced towards her.

His mouth opened, revealing a set of broken and yellowed teeth-it was something out of a nightmare.  
What happened next, Trish didn't see coming.

She heard Tommy's voice scream Jason's name with a fury that she didn't know Tommy had in him.  
When Jason turned to face Tommy, Tommy swung the machete at Jason's head.  
This time, it didn't miss.  
It buried deep into the side of Jason's skull, slicing through his decaying flesh all the way up to the hilt, and cutting through the side of his right eye. A greenish-brown liquid squirted out and dribbled down Jason's cheek.  
Tommy and Trish both stared on in total disbelief.

Jason fell to his knees and pitched forward, landing on the machete protruding from his eye, and burying the blade deeper into his skull.  
The grotesque abnormalities of his face were twitching and moving around, and his body began convulsing. A white foam formed at his mouth as the machete was driven even deeper through his head and out at the base of his skull.

Jason finally hit the floor, the machete going all the way through, and lay there, motionless.  
There was a moment of silence as Trish and Tommy were frozen in astonishment, both trying to process what had just happened.  
Tommy's eyes grew wide, seeing what he had just done to another living thing, stepping back and looking down at the carnage that he inflicted upon this monster.  
It was over. It was all over. The initial shock of it slowly resolved into a huge relief that washed over both of them.

Trish sprang to her feet and ran to Tommy, embracing him. Tommy began to cry into Trish's arms, trembling all over with fright.  
She wanted to say something, ask him what came over him, but she just wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be alright now. Jason was dead. He was dead and this nightmare was over.  
Then, without warning, Jason's hand came to life, grabbing Trish's ankle.  
She let out a bone-chilling shriek and yanked her foot away. What happened next was the ultimate shock.  
She watched as Tommy picked up the machete and his tiny prepubescent body began to go into a frenzy. He lifted the machete into the air and brought it down on Jason's head.

Again, and again, and, again, and again. Jason's head looked like nothing but a bloody pulp. Like a melon that had been smashed.  
"Tommy!" Tommy!" Trish screamed, trying to snap him out of it, but he was in some sort of trance as well, a very violent one.  
She didn't even recognize him.  
His face was completely distorted, his eyes filled with hate and a lust to kill, a white-hot seething anger boiling out of him, his teeth gritted so hard that he could have bitten off a finger.

He was screaming madly.  
"Die! Die! Die, Jason, die! Die!"

Trish never had seen anything like it before. Tommy had never acted this way before.

He was hacking away at Jason, over and over, screaming, spit flying.

With each whack, he yelled.  
"Die!"  
"Die!"  
"Die!"  
"Die!"


	10. Epilogue

Trish's eyes fluttered open and she came to, realizing she was in the living room of her house. She looked down at her clothes, seeing the blood and mud caked all over her from head to toe.

Jason was lying on the floor in front of her, his head nothing but a mass of bloody tissue, the machete still driven through his skull. She could see bits of brain and gore through the rotting skin, and she grimaced.

The house was quiet. Tommy was nowhere in sight.

Trish looked over and saw Rob, still lying there on the hardwood floor in a pool of blood and broken glass.

It took her a moment to realize it was morning. Sunlight was flooding in through the two broken picture windows, and birds were chirping peacefully.

Trish struggled to her feet, wincing at the pain in her right ankle, and limped to the window.

Her eyes lit up as she saw the police cars coming down the winding country road.

"Tommy! Tommy, let's get out of here! The police are here!" Trish called, but there was no answer.

She looked towards the stairs. No sign of Tommy.

"Tommy!" she called again. Still no answer.

Trish stepped over Jason's unmoving body and began walking up the staircase. She got to the second floor and rounded the banister, going down to the last door on the right and pushing open what was left of Tommy's bedroom door.

His room was empty. The smashed computer monitor was still on the floor.

Trish stepped back, perplexed. Where the hell was he? The sirens outside were growing louder.

"Tommy…" Trish started to say, when a noise caught her attention.

It was the sound of running water.

Then she saw the water flowing out from under the bathroom door.

"What the hell…" she muttered, moving to the bathroom door and opening it.

The bathroom was flooded. Water was up over Trish's ankles. She gasped in horror at what she saw.

The bathtub was filled with blood.

Her mother was lying there in the tub of blood, her eyes closed peacefully, motionless.

"Mom!" Trish exclaimed in horror, rushing to the side of the bathtub and lifting her nude body out of the water.

She cradled her lifeless mother in her arms, sobbing hysterically.

All of a sudden, her mother came to life, grabbing Trish by the neck and squeezing. Trish tried to scream, but the hands were too strong; they were strangling her.

She saw into her mother's eyes, and they opened, revealing nothing but white. Her mother's mouth opened, and a waterfall of blood erupted out.

Trish recoiled, pushing her mother's hands away finally, screaming again and again in pure terror.

She sprang to her feet and ran for the bathroom door. Standing there in the bathroom doorway was Tommy, wearing the hockey mask, an axe in his hands.

He swung it right at Trish's heart.

* * *

Trish woke up screaming.

Two hands pinned her back down to the bed, and her eyes flashed open, a white light blinding her.

Trish's body relaxed as she realized she was safe. There was no dead mother, no Tommy with an axe, just a hospital room surrounded by police.

She stopped screaming, seeing the concerned faces of the officers.

"Mrs. Jarvis, are you alright?"

Trish looked around the room, letting it sink in all at once, and she remembered all of it. Rob being murdered, that maniac chasing her and Tommy through the house, Tommy grabbing that machete and going absolutely crazy…it all came back to her. She looked down and saw the gauze on her ankle, and the gauze wrapped tightly around her upper arm where Jason had hit her with the axe

"Yes….yeah I'm ok…where's my mother? Where's Tommy?" Trish asked.

She saw several pained expressions, and her heart sank.

"M'am, your little brother is in the next room, he's fine. But your mother didn't make it," one officer said, stepping closer to the bed.

Trish felt tears welling up, and a lump forming in her throat.

"Is everybody dead?"

"Yes. The only ones alive are you and the boy. Tommy did a real number on that guy," another officer remarked.

Trish remembered. She shuddered thinking about it. Tommy almost had scared her more than Jason, seeing him go berserk like that.

"Is…Tommy ok? He went crazy…." Trish said.

"Under extreme duress, people can perform extraordinary behavior…feats of strength…and that's what happened when your brother attacked the killer. It was normal for him to protect himself," the first officer explained. "He will be fine. What you need is some rest,"

"Can I see him?" Trish asked.

"Yeah, we'll send him in," said the other officer, with hesitation.

The four policemen left the room, closing the door, and shortly after, Tommy came rushing into the room, his head still shaved completely, his clothes torn and rumpled.

"Tommy…" Trish said with relief, embracing him. "It's over, it's over,"

Trish didn't see the look on Tommy's face as he stared blankly at the wall behind them.

His eyes were glassed over, his face drained of color, his eyes…empty and soulless. There was something evil about it….Tommy could feel a white-hot intensity bubbling up within him…a rage…a burning rage that threatened to consume him.

THE END


End file.
